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QMnnals of a ‘Beautiful Life. 


MEMORIAL 


Sia Bisex 


fowen, |. BuRE, - | 


J re } 
ae, 


A HUSBAND'S TRIBUTE 


MEMORY OF A FAULTLESS WIFE. 


Precious in the sight of the Lurp is the 
death of his saints.—/Ps, cxvi: 15. 


CONCORD, N. H.: | ant 
PUBLISHED BY EDWARD A. JENKS. 
1879. 





ISABEL UAW REN OX, 


Wife of Rev. 8S. Leroy Blake, 


FELL ASLEEP AT CLEVELAND, O., JULY 30, 1879, 
AGED 32 YEARS. 


BREVa SS = Ate 


Blessed ave they that do bis commandments, that they mav babe right 
to the tree of life, und map enter in through the 
gutes into the city. 











TO THE DEAR MOTHER. 


Since you gave so much of your sweet. self to 
Isabel when you gave her to life, it seems as if this 
little sketch ought in some way to be linked to 
your name, which was so dear to her, and which 
was on her lips when she was breathing out her 
life to God. So, with inexpressible gratitude to 
you for giving her to me, I dedicate it to you, on 
this anniversary of our marriage eight years ago, 
praying that the Father who has taken her may be 
your lamp, your staff, and your comfort, and that 
He may add yet many years to the measure of 
your own precious life, before he calls you to join 
her on that other shore, where the great company 
are rapidly gathering, and where no shadows shall 
fall across your pathway. 

Affectionately, your son, 
S. Leroy BLake. 


Cleveland, O., Oct. 25, 1879. 











ie 
WHY THIS SKETCH APPEARS. 


Any life which does its part well, is worth re- 
cording. Stir and noise are not always the meas- 
ure of effectiveness. Quietest things sometimes do 
most. Itis not the crashing thunder-peal, filling the 
air with its deafening roar, but the silent electric 
current which slides along its track of flame from 
cloud to earth, which does damage. You do not 
hear the blow which strikes the icy fetters off the 
brooks and fields, and lets them leap out into the 
glad, new life of spring. A life inspired by princi- 
ple, though no loud-mouthed trumpets proclaim its 
worth, as surely bears fruit as the tree on which 
you can see, but cannot hear, the bursting of the 
buds into blossoms, and the growth of the blossoms 
into apples. Sucha life of quiet but decisive power 
is worth imitating. It shows what grace can do 
for men. Its annals are an inspiration. It proves 
that life cannot be measured by figures on a dial. 


‘* We live in deeds, not years; in thoughts, not breaths ; 
In feelings, not in figures on a dial. 
We should count time by heart-throbs. He most lives 
Who thinks most, feels the noblest, acts the best.” 


SE rE er TT LT LL I ET 


8 Annals of a Beautiful Life. 


Because the life, whose annals we here offer, as 
we believe did its part so well, was one of such 
quiet but yet decisive and beneficent power, and 
affords an example of such noble and unselftsh liv- 
ing, we send forth this sketch, in the hope that her 
memory, as did her life, may be the means under 
God of winning some to that same joy in believing 
which was the light of her living, and the glory of 
her dying. 

We also send forth this sketch on what we trust 
will be its errand of blessing, as a testimony of 
love, and to express our gratitude to God for letting 
such a life be linked to ours for so many years. 
Said one of the young ladies with whom she had 
grown up, “I thank God that I knew her.” Much 
more may they say so, of whose life she was a most 
precious part. We have not thought to add any- 
thing to the world’s overstocked market of bio- 
graphical literature, but to trace the leading points 
of her beautiful life for the hearts that loved her. 
We have not therefore written for critical eyes, but 
for eyes too dim with tears of sympathy and affec- 
tion to see with the sharpness of criticism. This 
has been prepared for hearts, not heads. 


186 


HER BIRTH AND ANCESTRY. 


About thirty years ago a plump, rosy-cheeked 
little girl, of gentle and winning ways, might have 
been seen playing about the ancestral home on 
**Oak Hill,” in the beautiful town of Pepperell, 
Mass. That little girl was the subject of this 
sketch. She was born July 1, 1847, and at her 
christening received the name of Isabella Mary. 

On her mother’s side she was a descendant of 
the Spaulding family, some branches of which 
have been distinguished for their men and women 
of note. The line of her father’s ancestry runs 
very far back into the past. It appears in history 
as early as A. D. 258, when Laurentius, or St. 
Laurence, chief deacon of Sixtus, Bishop of Rome, 
suffered martyrdom. ‘The name is supposed to be 
derived from the Latin word Zaurus, and accord- 
ing to the town records of Hingham, Mass., signi- 
fies ‘“‘ flourishing like a bay-tree.” Men of this 
name have held high positions in church and 
state, both in England and America. Bishops, 
clergymen, scholars, statesmen, and soldiers have 
sprung from the family. 


10 Annals of a Beautiful Life. 


The family in this country descended from John 
Lawrence, who was born at Wisset, England, 
about 1609, and came to New England 1630-1635, 
and settled in Watertown, Mass. Many of his 
descendants have been marked men in the history 
of the country. Samuel Lawrence, the father of 
Amos and Abbott Lawrence, was in his field, in 
the town of Groton, Mass., when the news came of 
the march of the British on Concord. He mounted 
his horse, gave the alarm in adjoining towns, 
joined his company at the meeting-house in Gro- 
ton, and reached the scene of action in season to 
give the advancing troops a hot reception. He 
was wounded at the battle of Bunker Hill. His hat 
and coat, pierced by the enemy’s balls, were kept 
as relics for many years. ‘* At the time of his mar- 
riage, while the ceremony was in progress, the toll- 
ing of the meeting-house bell called out the minute- 
men ; whereupon he parted from his bride as soon as 
the rite was finished, and marched to Rhode Island, 
but shortly returned on furlough for a few days; 
after which she did not see him again until the 
last day of the year.” He was promoted to the 
rank of major; fought in many of the hardest bat- 
tles of the Revolution; was elected to fill honora- 
ble places of trust by his townsmen; was a deacon 
of the church in Groton; and was foremost in 
founding the academy at Groton, known as Law- 
rence Academy. 





Fler Birth and Ancestry. II 


Thomas Lawrence, of another branch of the 
family of John, was captain of a company from Pep- 
perell and vicinity, which enlisted for the French 
war, in 1758. He is represented as a man of gigan- 
tic stature, herculean strength, bold and courageous. 
He lost his life in battle near Lake George, New 
York. He was great-grandfather of Isabel. 

His son Thomas, her grandfather, was wounded 
at the battle of Bunker Hill, and figured conspicu- 
ously in the military history of those stirring times. 
He was promoted to the rank of major. 

His son Luther, her father, is described as a man 
of great force of character, a quality which he gave 
in large measure to his children. The fact that he 
was often placed by his townsmen in that trium- 
virate of the New England town known as ‘ The 
selectmen,” and that he repeatedly represented 
his town in the General Court, where he was con- 
temporary with such men as Robert Rantoul, Hen- 
ry Wilson, and Horace Mann, shows the esteem in 
which he was held in Pepperell. He was very 
fond of his children, upon whom he stamped so 
strongly his own moral and intellectual likeness. 
Hence, though he died in 1854, when Isabel was 
but seven years old, she retained a vivid recollec- 
tion of him, and loved his memory as only such a 
child can. After she came to her womanhood, I 
have seen the eyes glisten with tears, and the lips 
quiver with emotion, as she spoke his name with a 


12 Annals of a Beautiful Life. 


daughter’s deep affection. The family name has a 
noble record, and she was herself a noble speci- 
men of the line. 


I. The line of descent from Joun LAwreENCcE is 
as follows: NATHANIEL, son of JoHN, born Oct. 
15, 1639, and lived at Groton. 

II. Joun, son of NATHANIEL, born July 29, 1667, 
and lived at Groton and Lexington. 

III. Tuomas, son of Joun, born Dec. 23, 1691, 
and lived at Groton. 

IV. Capt. THomas, son of THomas, born Sept. 
3, 1720, and lived at Groton and Pepperell. 

V. Maj. Tuomas, son of Capt. THomas, born 
Dec. 25, 17547, and lived in Pepperell. 

VI. Luruer, son of Maj. THomas, was born at 
Pepperell, Nov. 7, 1801, and lived at Pepperell, 
where he died July 28, 1854. Isabel was of the 
SEVENTH generation from John, the originator of 
the family in America. 





1 i 
THE GIRL AT HOME. 


As a girl, she displayed those qualities of charac- 
ter which gave such ripe richness and winsomeness 
to her womanhood. It was a common remark 
among her friends, that Isabel would be a minis- 
ter’s wife,—they little dreaming that the word 
spoken in jest was a true prophecy. During this 
early period of her life, Rev. Lyman Cutler was 
pastor of the church in Pepperell, and he, together 
with his estimable wife, seems to have made a pro- 
found impression upon her mind; for she often 
spoke of them, dwelt on the loveliness of Mrs. 
Cutler, and told what a treat it was for her to go 
to the minister’s with her father and mother. I 
believe Mr. and Mrs. Cutler used to call her their 
little girl. It was a matter of common remark that 
she looked like Mrs. Cutler. Certainly in loveli- 
ness of character she was like the minister’s wife 
whom she never forgot. How much the influence 
of this Christian woman had to do in shaping the 
life and heart of the little girl who adored her, can 
never be known. 

As a child, I suppose that Isabel was like other 
children. But I cannot learn that she was ever the 


14 Annals of a Beautiful Life. 


fountain of any disturbances or contentions such 
as are common to little folks, nor can I learn that 
she was ever a disturbing element in the home. 
On the contrary, both there and among her mates, 
she was, as in all her subsequent life, a peace- 
maker, and without a shadow of doubt received 
the blessing promised to such,— they shall be 
called the children of God.” I am sure no daugh- 
ter could ever be more obedient and dutiful. 

As a child she developed that force of character 
which was a marked feature of the woman. She 
never usurped the place, nor put herself forward, 
but her mates looked upon her as a sort of leader, 
and felt safe to follow Bell, as she was familiarly 
called, wherever she led. For she did not make up 
her mind hastily, but when it was made up, she 
was likely to be right. Consequently the influence 
she exerted over the girls of her own age was last- 
ing, and we may believe was among the means 
used by God to bring them all to the Savior. That 
I am not alone in this opinion appears from a let- 
ter written to her by a Miss Shattuck, who was a 
teacher to whom Isabel was sincerely attached, in 
which she urges her to become a Christian because 
of the influence her act would have upon her mates. 
Subsequent facts proved how correct Miss Shat- 
tuck was. 

Another evidence of her force of character was 
to be seen in the quiet yet unflinching way in 





The Girl at Home. pais 


which she sought to do what she believed to be 
right. She was not obstinate, for she would always 
yield rather than dispute. But when she had made 
up her mind for herself, her duty was plain, and 
she could not be changed. I do not think it be- 
traying any confidence she would have me keep to 
say, and it gives me great pleasure to be able to 
say it, that when any difference of opinion between 
us occurred, which was not often, her view usually 
prevailed in the end, for it was rarely wrong. 

Her force of character was also shown in the 
quiet but decided choice by which she became a 
Christian. The step was taken under circum- 
stances which showed her independent way of 
thinking and acting. ‘There was no special relig- 
ious interest, except in her heart. She stood alone 
in the vestry of the church to ask the prayers of 
God’s people. But she was not long alone, for she 
carried with her all the girls of her set. From 
that step of this girl of 14 dated a religious interest 
which greatly blessed the church. Largely through 
her influence the girls on ‘Oak Hill” formed a 
prayer-meeting, of which she was in no small de- 
gree the spiritual life and light. Thus, at the age 
of from 12 to 15, she was doing, in her quiet way, 
most efficient work for the Master. When she had 
chosen Christ, she at once wrote to the teacher 
whom she loved so well, and to whom she owed 
so much. 


16 Annals of a Beautiful Life. 


PEPPERELL, June 8, 1862. 

DEAR MIss SHATTUCK: 

* * ‘You cannot imagine how happy I was 
when I saw that letter was from you, for I almost 
knew its pages would be filled with that ove sub- 
ject which I love to hear better than anything else. 
* * Oh! Miss Shattuck, how many times I have 
wished you would speak to me on the subject of 
religion, but never did I feel like saying anything 
first; so it was always put off. We would talk 
about everything else but that one thing which is 
of so much more importance than anything else we 
could have said. But now I feel like talking with 
any one on that subject. [Her subsequent life 
made these words good.] I had often prayed to 
my Heavenly Father that I might become a true 
and sincere Christian, and now I feel that I have 
given my heart to this Savior to be his forever, for 
how could I deny him any longer! All he asks is, 
“© Come,” “believe on me and thou shalt. have 
everlasting life.” It is so easy, and yet it is so 
hard. I know that I have-led a very sinful life. 
_* * But I came and gave myself to Christ ‘* just 
as J am,” and I trust that he has forgiven my sins ; 
and oh! what a happy feeling itis! I love to go 
by myself alone, and pray to my Heavenly Father, 
and read his Holy Bible: I take so much pleasure 
in it. 

I remain yours truly, 
BELL. 


She was not yet 15 years old. But here are ex- 
pressions of Christian character, such as we might 
look for in one of larger experience. ‘They were 
not the enthusiastic outgushings of a young life 





The Girl at Home. 17 


which soon spend themselves ; for to the end it was 
her custom and delight to go by herself alone and 
pray, and to the end the Word of God was her 
great and constant joy. Religion was a beautiful 
reality to this young girl. It lost none of its 
charms to her, as she grew to that splendid 
womanhood which her Christian character made 
very winsome. 

Of the prayer-meeting named above, she writes, 
under date of Jan. 12, 1863: 


DerarR Miss SHATTUCK: 
~ * * * tWast week Nellie, Fannie, Katie, 
Lucena, and myself met down at Charlotte’s at a 
prayer-meeting. It was very interesting indeed. 
eee There is nothing [love to go to'so 
much as these. I feel that my hope in Christ 
grows stronger as each day I grow older. Oh! 
how I wish that each one of my schoolmates would 
come and love this Savior zow ! 
Very affectionately yours, 
BELL. 


In the same letter she speaks of personal conver- 
sation with several of her young friends, in which 
she tried faithfully to point them to the Savior. 
In a letter written the following April, she says,— 
“IT am never so happy as when talking about 
Christ.” At this early age her hope was anchoring 
itself within the veil, and her faith never faltered 
in its steady allegiance to God, till it was changed 
into glorified vision. 


18 Annals of a Beautiful Life. 


Her whole home-life was tinctured by this spirit 
which made her so beautiful a Christian. In all 
her thoughts and desires she was perfectly pure 
and innocent. Life was a great pleasure to her; 
she enjoyed it with keen relish, and with all her 
heart entered into those sports which are the de- 


light of young people of her age. She often took — 


part in the exhibitions they used to have at the 
‘¢ Oak Hill” school-house, in which she always ac- 
quitted herself, as I have learned from others, with 


great merit. She was a fine reader, and had a. 


rare faculty of personating different characters. 
But whatever she did she never forgot that she 
was a Christian. It is safe to say, that it is not 
usual to find at so young an age.a character so ripe, 
and in all respects so firmly established. 

The testimony of one of the girls with whom her 
childhood was spent, and who was one of her most 
intimate friends, confirms what has been said. 
The letter bears date of October 25, 18709. 


‘‘ Mrs. B. said this day was her wedding anni- 
versary. The thought carried me back to the day 
when she left us to go with you, back through her 
girlhood to childhood, and her life came before 
me in one sweet, beautiful whole; complete, it 
seemed to me, as child, girl, woman. When 
at school she was a favorite with all, and we 
were only too happy to get a share of her society. 
I used to wonder why she was so attractive, and 
have since found an answer in that quick, generous 


ey en 





~The Girl at Home. 19 


sympathy, that forgetfulness of self and thought- 


fulness of others, which in later years has been so 
thoroughly characteristic of her. 

“In all the years of close companionship as 
schoolmates, no word of hers was ever a taunt, or 
had a touch of unkindness. I think that record of 
her school-life speaks volumes ; for children often- 
times give pain by thoughtless, unkind words. As 
she grew older, and we went to the little prayer- 
meetings, which largely owed their support to her 
faithful activity as a Christian girl, no voice was 
sweeter than hers in prayer, or more ready to say 
a word for the Savior she loved so well. 

** But no words of mine can express the feeling 
of her worth and goodness. The grave has closed 
over a dearly loved friend, and sometimes it seems 
too sad to be true. Then whenI look back and 
think of her life, and the blessed memories she 
has left, can I be too thankful that I have known 
her? I try to find comfort in the thought that she 
was with us so long. ‘The Lord giveth, and the 
Lord taketh away.’ ” 


If the whole town were to voice their feelings, 
no different testimony would be given. But was 
she, as we have said, the same kind, affectionate, 
gentle girl at home, winning the love of the whole 
household? The home-life is the best test. He 
who stood to her instead of her own father,—a 
man of few words,—said, ‘‘ Bell was always a 
good girl.” ‘The sister younger than she, wrote,— 
“You asked me if she was always as lovable as 
she has been since you have known her. She has 


20 Annals of a Beautiful Life. 


always been so ever since I can remember. I 
think she was about twelve years old when she 
became interested in religion. At that time I was 
only about six years old. But I remember that 
when I was small I must have been a good deal 
of trouble, and Bell was always so kind to me.” 
The letter goes on to mention little acts of kindness, 
which showed the goodness of her heart, which 
need not be repeated. She was as a girl what she 
afterwards was as a woman. 


| 
| 
| 
i 





IV. 


AT SCHOOL. 


At about this period in her life began her school- 
days in Lawrence Academy, Groton, Mass. Her 
course of study here was broken in upon by a very 
severe fit of typhoid fever, which came near taking 
her life, and did shatter her constitution, so that 
ever after it she was very frail. This happened 
when she was 16. She returned to school as soon 
as her health permitted, and took high rank as a 
scholar, standing at the head of most of her classes. 
She was gifted with a singularly retentive memory, 
and therefore she kept what she learned. [I re- 
member especially an examination of her French 
class, at which she acquitted herself with great 
credit. 

She carried to the school the same qualities of 
character which had made her so marked at 
home, and she was for a like reason a leader and 
a favorite among the scholars of the academy. She 
also took with her the same Christian character 
which gave her an influence over her mates; and 
therefore at Groton she was as earnest for the sal- 
vation of her schoolmates as she had been at Pep- 


* 


22 Annals of a Beautiful Life. 


perell. The first time I ever saw her was in a 
prayer-meeting which many of the students at- 
tended, and her very marked demeanor attracted 
my notice. Evidently, I thought, she is a devoutly 
Christian girl, who must exert a powerful influence 
over her fellow-pupils. My conjecture was correct. 
Here is the testimony of one who was her room- 
mate and most intimate friend at school : 


Troy, N. H.; Aug.15, ¢o70. 
Rev. 5. L. BLAKE: 
DEAR SIR: 


* %* * JT first heard of your loss through 
the Congregationalzst, and I was truly grieved at 
hearing the sad news of dear Mrs. Blake’s death, 
and do most heartily sympathize with you all. In 
her death I too have lost a dear friend. Her name 
was ever dear to me, and full of pleasant remem- 
brances. As a schoolmate and a room-mate she 
became very dear to me. In school she was great- 
ly beloved by teachers and pupils, for it was there 
she exhibited those traits of character which made 
her life so beautiful. Always cheerful and happy, 
so unselfish in everything, we could but feel she 
was the joy of the school. 

She always manifested an earnest desire for the 
spiritual welfare of the students, attending regu- 
larly the religious meetings of the academy, and 
often was her voice heard in pr oie: for the conver- 
sion er the’ scholars, +" 74am 

Truly yours, 
Mrs. A. B. Dorrt. 


ee ee 








At School. 28 


Other testimony might be added to show that 
she was as loyal to Christ at the academy as at 
home. And I cannot doubt that it was partly due 
to her quiet influence that the school was visited 
with a remarkable revival in the spring of 1864, 
when very many of the pupils became Christians, 
some of whom afterwards became preachers of the 


gospel. 


Her health required that she should leave the 


school in the spring of 1865. She would have 


graduated the following summer with high honors. 


& 


Nex 
THE WIFE. 


She was rapidly ripening into that womanhood 
in which her life shone with richest lustre. The 
next few years do not require to be recorded, for 
the record would be but a repetition of what has 
been said. It is enough to say, that during these 
years before she left it as a wife, she was the light 
of the home in which she was a dutiful daughter, 
and a loving, self-denying sister. During this period 
her brother Luther died, to whom she was very 
strongly attached, as she was to all her friends. 
This is what she wrote when the sad news came: 
‘It is a house of mourning, but we must be re- 
signed to God’s will, trusting Him. Oh! what a 
mercy to have a Savior to’ go)(0179" 5 santa 
so sad for us: but we know there is a higher pow- 
er who does all things, and to Him we submit.” 

We pass now to that period of her life when her 
splendid womanhood displayed its rare qualities 
to best advantage. On Wednesday, Oct. 25th, 
1871, she gave herself to me to stand by my side 
in my chosen work of the gospel ministry, and the 
prophetic word, spoken in jest of the girl, was 


a i 








The Wife. 25 


fulfilled. If it were proper to push aside the veil 
and publish the correspondence which prefaced 
this day, it would show a wealth and a depth of 
affection which should satisfy the hungriest heart. 
But this was only a pledge of what the wife was 
ready to bestow upon the husband. 


1.—FEELINGS WITH WHICH SHE BECAME A WIFE. 


She did not enter into this relation unthinkingly, 
but with a full consciousness of its duties, and with 
dependence upon God for strength to meet them. 
Let her own words speak. In a letter written the 
week before her marriage she says,—‘‘ Have you 
thought that a week from to-day (Oct. 21, 1871) 
we shall be at your home in Conn., and two weeks 
from to-day, with God’s blessing, we shall be at 
our new home in Concord? There we begin our 
new life, and we cannot be too watchful of our- 
selves. I earnestly pray that I shall be a loving, 
faithful wife to you, and I do pray that. God will 
bless us to work faithfully for him, and do all we 
can to make ourselves happy, and others happy 
around us. I feel so wholly unfitted for this posi- 
tion of life; but God is able to give me strength, 
and my trust isin Him. I hope we shall be faith- 
ful and true Christians.” With such thoughts and 
desires, the charming Miss became the “ loving, 
faithful wife,” doing all she could to make “‘ others 


26 Annals of a Beautiful Life. 


happy around us,” and finding her own happiness 
in that. How well she carried out her desires to 
be a “ loving, faithful wife,” words are too unutter- 
ably poor to tell. The sweetness of her life will 
be a perpetual fragrance. 


2.—How SHE WAS RECEIVED AT CONCORD. 


She was received with open arms, when we 
came to ‘our new home in Concord” to * begin 
our new life,” which were reluctantly torn apart 
to let her go to Cleveland, and which, with a great 
sob of grief, were reached out after her in vain, 
when God called her home. I do not think I ever 
knew one who won such universal love and respect 
as she did, from young and old, men and women, 
in the church where she belonged, and out of it. 
The children loved her. Every one in Concord 
who knew her loved her, and mourned when she 
went away. Ladies of age and experience deferred 
to her, and sought her advice. Higher compliment 
could not have been paid her. But I know that 
the compliment came from those whose regard for 
her could not express itself too intensely. 

She naturally felt that the lines had fallen to her 
in very pleasant places, when she went to Concord, 
and that her lot as a minister’s wife was not hard. 
I remember she once read an article in the Comgre- 
gationalzst, setting forth the abuses to which min- 








The Wafe. 27 


isters’ wives are subjected. After reading it, she 
said, ‘‘ My experience is exactly opposite to that.” 
She sat down and sketched two cases. One was 
of some person whom she knew; the other rep- 
resented her own. ‘The contrast expresses exactly 
her thought. This is it: 


** We have in mind a minister’s wife, whose his- 
tory may not come amiss here, and perhaps help 
to shed light on this question. A beautiful young 
girl from one of our adjoining towns, whose life 
had been one of quiet, and who had been unused 
to hardships, found the man of her choice to bea 
minister. She pledged her life to him. In due 
time the two were made happy in marriage, and 
entered upon their new life with bright hopes for 
the future in store for them. Truly, it seemed as if 
the lines had fallen to them in pleasant places, 
when they were settled among their (said to be) 
kind and considerate people. This devoted wife 
had determined to do all she could to increase her 
husband’s usefulness, and accordingly entered upon 
her new labors with zeal and earnestness. 

*‘ As soon as politeness would allow, the ordeal 
she was to pass through began. One by one the 
people came to call upon the minister’s new wife. 
She was expected to become personally interested 


in each one, to participate alike in their joys and 


sorrows, and sympathize as best she could. The 
first weeks being spent in receiving calls, she must 
now begin to return: and not only to return calls, 
she must go with her husband to see the sick, the 
poor, the sorrowing. She must attend the regular 
prayer-meeting of the church, besides having a 


28 Annals of a Beautiful Life. 


weekly prayer-meeting at her own house. She 
must make herself agreeable to every one with 
whom she comes in contact, and must always be 
tidy and presentable; which is no difficult matter, 
considering the average minister’s salary. Can 
you wonder that she is utterly astonished to find 
that she has wedded a parish instead of her hus- 
band? Can we be surprised that her husband be- 
comes a dyspeptic? For where has her ome been 
all this time? Something must be neglected. If 
she neglects the parish, she constantly hears some 
one say,—‘‘ You have not called on us in so long a 
time.” So the neglect must fall on the home-life, 
unless she turns about and becomes the wife of her 
husband instead of the wife of the parish. 

‘* Let us turn from this to one of the more for- 
tunate wives, who was permitted to enjoy the same 
rights and privileges with any other lady in the 
society. She was not expected to attend a meet- 
ing every night in the week, or to make calls every 
afternoon, but simply had her freedom to do as she 
pleased. It was her fortune to have a pleasant 
home, and her delight to make it attractive, not 
only to her husband, but also to the people. As 
one is happy, so in proportion is one useful. Was 
it wonderful, then, that the young people all flocked 
about their minister? ‘The very atmosphere of his 
home-life had been such as to make him one with 
them. A minister, to win souls, must win hearts. 
His wife had been able to be his helpmate, because 
she had been left to make his home for him.” 


This last picture she painted in accord with her 
own experience. She was always happy, because 





The Wife. 29 


always free, in the work of the gospel which fell to 
her todo. Thanks to the people who loved her! 


3.—HER LOVING, UNSELFISH HEART. 


If I might lift the covering which hides the 
sacred privacy of conjugal affection, and publish 
the letters which she expected no eye but that 
of her husband to see, they would show plainly 
enough what there was in her which made her an 
incomparable wife. But that covering must not be 
disturbed, nor that sacred privacy be profaned. 
Enough was visible in her life to all who knew her 
to give a hint of what she was as a companion. 
The reality was too blessed for language to ex- 
press it. 

Her quiet, gentle ways fitted her to move in her 
station in life without jostling against any, or 
wounding even the most sensitive nature. She 
was remarkably kind in her way of receiving all 
who came into her home, and she had a wonder- 
fully happy faculty of making people feel welcome. 
Every one who had been in her society once, longed 
to enjoy it again. She was wise and judicious, and 
never said anything to be repented of, or which 
would stir up strife and ill-feelings. I never learned 
that a lisp of unfavorable criticism was ever uttered 
against her, during the eight years in which she 
occupied the somewhat delicate place of a pastor’s 


30 Annals of a Beautiful Life. 


wife; neither did I ever learn that a single word 
from her lips was ever the occasion of any offence. 

When Mrs. Madison presided over the presiden- 
tial mansion at Washington, Henry Clay said to 
her, with characteristic gallantry, ‘ Everybody 
loves Mrs. Madison.” With a frankness pecul- 
iarly her own, she replied, ‘* That is because Mrs. 
Madison loves everybody.” Isabel loved every- 
body, and everybody loved her. She brightened 
every life she touched, and every one who came 
into her presence felt that she was full of profound- 
est sympathy, of which each had a full share. For 
eight years I never heard her say an ill word of 


any one; but always, with tears in her voice and 


tears in her eyes, she had a word of apology when 
most would have had only words of blame. In an 
eminent degree, as a woman as well as a girl, she 
was a peacemaker. Instead of planning to stir up 
strife, she always planned to smooth the rough 
edges. She could endure almost anything better 
than a dispute. 

She was remarkably unselfish and self-forgetful. 
I think she was one of those rare characters who 
are more ready to do for and think of others, than 
others are to do for and think of them, I do not 
think I ever saw a person who had less of self. 
She did not think of herself as much as her frail 
strength required. In this she was an exception 
to the rule. She always loved to make what calls 


I 





The Wife. 31 


she could on the people of the parish. But few 
could know how it taxed her. For she was so full 
of sympathy, which shone in her face and thrilled 
in her touch, that she seemed to invite confidence. 
At any rate, people could not resist telling her all 
their troubles, for her heart and ear were always 
open. In her home and everywhere she had the 
same sweet, unselfish spirit, which was thoughtful 
of the comfort and welfare of others. More could 
not be said, but it is just and true praise of her. 
The sunshine and sweetness of her soul made 
her face radiant and her life magnetic. Very few 
could resist being drawn to her winning face. Her 
soul was in it, and there was the light of a pure and 
lovely spirit in her expressive eyes. Clouds could 
not long sail in any sky where she shed her light. 
She loved her home passionately. She was, as 
we say, ahome body. She was satisfied to be at 
home. No place was to her like her home. It 
was here that her queenliness of character appeared 
preéminently. When, after a winter of boarding, 
we were once more to be under our own roof, and 
to have our own family altar, her cup of delight was 
full. Solomon’s description of a virtuous woman 
was true of her: ‘‘ The heart of her husband doth 
safely trust in her.” Her affectionate nature was 
deep. The world outside saw little demonstration 
on her part. But in the safe shelter of her home 
her love flowed unrestrained, with a depth anda 


32 Annals of a Beautiful Life. 


strength fo satisfy the most exacting heart. Noth- 
ing could wean her from the home of her child- 
hood while the mother she adored was in it. Her 
mother, her brothers and sisters, her home, and her 
husband, were her heart’s idols. 


4.—As A CRITIC AND LOVER OF LITERATURE. 


Her fine taste in the art of putting things made 
her invaluable to me as a critic. She seemed to 
know as by instinct what way of stating the truth 
would win attention. She had, as extracts show, 
a happy faculty of saying things in a very simple 
and natural way, and without needless words. It 
would be impossible to estimate the true worth of 
her wise and kindly suggestions in this regard. So 
sensible and practical were they, that they were 
like a short treatise on homiletics. She proved 
what a help a wise, faithful, loving wife can be to 
her husband in his literary work. No one else can 
criticize so faithfully and so well. If my style 
has any points which make it pleasing to the pop- 
ular ear, she, in no small degree, deserves the 
credit of it. Ifit has no such points, it is because 
I have failed to profit by her suggestions. I rarely 
ever preached a sermon or gave an address which 
I did not first submit to her for criticism. 

Her ideas of the office and sacredness of the 
gospel ministry were so high, that she was a 


es ws ae 





The Wofe. 33 


constant inspiration and a_ powerful incentive. 
With her sitting before me, to listen in her quiet 
but earnest and appreciative way, I felt sustained, 
as by a spirit in full accord with my message, to 
preach the gospel. It was always so from the first 
time I preached to her as her pastor in Pepperell, 
till the last time I preached to her as her husband, 
in Cleveland, on the evening of July 6, 1879. What 
I have felt others have, for she never heard a ser- 
mon without thanking the preacher for it, if the 
opportunity were offered. She knew the value of 
a kind word to one who is called to preach the gos- 
pel. The pastor in Pepperell wrote of her, after 
her death,—‘‘ In my days of trial which came to 
me in the early days of my pastorate, she always 
spoke cheering words to encourage me, and was 
pleased to speak kindly of my sermons.” “To a 
few words spoken by her, at various times, I feel 
that Lowe much.” Many times has she said,—‘ I 
never hear a sermon which presents Christ, from 
which I do not get some good, however much I 
may find in it which I could criticise, if I were so 
disposed.” Her idea of listening to preaching was, 
to get good; and the sermon must be very poor in 
which she could find nothing. If she had a kindly 
word to say, she always said it with such sweet 
earnestness in looks and voice, that one did not feel 
complimented, but encouraged. With such a 
listener, and that listener one’s wife, one could not 


oes Annals of a Beautiful Lefe. 


well help being inspired with the true spirit of the 
gospel ministry. She has done more than words 
can tell to put this mind in me which was jn Paul: 
‘‘ For I determined not to know anything among 
you, save Jesus Christ, and him crucified.” ‘ For 
we preach not ourselves, but Christ Jesus the 
Lord.” Perhaps the reader will be able to under- 
stand from this, how much I miss her in this part 
of my work. I have not yet learned to go into the 
pulpit without a trembling sense of weakness, nor 
to come from it without an anxious fear that the 
right thing has not been said in the right way to 
point men to the cross. A word from her, on the 
way home from church, if she could honestly speak 
it, would quiet my fears. If she could not, she 
would frankly say so, and why, and, in whatever 
criticisms she might have to offer, make herself as 
great a help to me as if she had nothing but praise 
to give. 

She has made the work of the ministry seem 
more holy to me, because her gentle hands and life 
have touched it with me. In times of misgiving 
about my fitness for so holy a calling, she has given 
me courage by the kind and inspiring things she 
said, which I may not repeat. ‘They are stored up 
in memory, to be kept for those times of sinking of 
heart which I know must come, when she can speak 
to me no longer, except in the treasured words which 
have fallen so sweetly from her lips, and which 


jecimianntisace ripe tS 





2 
Peete 22 ees 


Se Fae 


ihe 


Kg S27 ae 
fe 


= 2 





. 


The Wefe. 35 


can never be forgotten. I am painfully sensible 
that the work I ‘do is very far short of any worthy 
excellence, but it is infinitely better than it would 
have been if she had not for eight years been so 
linked to all my life, as its chief moulding force. I 
cannot give her too great praise as a helpmate in 
the work of the gospel. 

Her fine sensibilities and keen sense of the beau- 
tiful made her a poet by nature. Her life was an 
exquisite poem. She was a great lover of some of 
Mrs. Browning’s poems. One of her special fav- 
orites was “‘Isobel’s Child.” Tennyson was also 
a delight to her, and often would she ask me to lis- 
ten, as she would read some gem from his works, 
with rare force of expression and a quick apprecia- 
tion of its sentiment. She also took great pleasure 
in reading the lives and poems of Phebe and Alice 
Cary. Very few entered more fully than she into 
the true spirit of poetry. It was in her soul. Here 
is an exquisite little fragment which she wrote, 
which testifies to this fact. As one said, it is just 
like her. If it is not-classic, it has the soul of 
poetry init. She thought it out one winter’s eve- 
ning in Concord, as she sat by the window, while 
one of the first snows was noiselessly falling. 


36 Annals of a Beautiful Life. 


QUESTIONS TO THE SNOW-FLAKES. 


Dear little snow-flakes, falling so fast, 

Where do they keep you?—in wonder we ask: 
Up in the heavens, above the blue sky? 
Where have you been in the summer gone by? 


Who lives where you live, and what are their names? 
Where did you wash, to remove all your stains? 
Who made you, like jewels, to hang on the trees, 
And to float like white feathers away on the breeze? 


Dear little snow-flakes, falling so fast, 

Like the stars of the evening when daylight is past, 
Draping the earth in garments so white, 

Filling the world with their beautiful light : 


As I watch from my window and see you fall down, 
With beautiful ermine covering the ground, — 

Each little snow-flake a gem all alone,— 

Who flung you down from your beautiful home ? 


I recall so vividly the evening when she wrote 
these lines! She caught the spirit of the scene, 
and simply translated it into beautiful expression. 
If you want to know what sort of an evening it 
was, and what sort of a feeling filled the soul, read 
these,verses. To her, the evening and the falling 
snow were a poem. All she did was to write out 
and interpret the thoughts she read on the spotless 
page which nature opened to hereye. As I un- 
derstand it, that is true poetry. 


€; 





SA ye 





The Wofe. 37, 


5.—TRIP TO EUROPE ILLUSTRATING HER LOVE OF 
NATURE. 


This love of the beautiful, which made her a 
natural poet, also made her an ardent lover of na- 
ture. She always appreciated and had an excla- 
mation of delight for every sweet surprise of 
scenery. She loved the country, with its green 
grass, its wild-flowers, its thick tangled woods with 
their deep cooling shades, its carolling birds. The 
last time she was in Pepperell was in May before 
she died. The beautiful trailing arbutus was in its 
glory. She was achild again, and lived over the 
old days, and revelled to her fill in their delights, 
and came home with a memory of those spring 
mornings in the woods which never faded. 

In 1876 we travelled three months in Europe. 
Extracts from her diary tell better than I can the 
impressions fixed upon her mind: ‘We sailed 
one ework july 12, 1876. * *..* *. If 
one wishes to realize the full meaning of that 
verse, ‘ Who hath measured the waters in the hol- 
low of his hands,’ he will do so, I know, by taking 
one voyage across the ocean. It is: a peculiar 
sensation to feel that one is moving along on the 
face of the great deep, in a little iron bark as it 
were, which seems but a speck when looking on 
all sides of you and seeing nothing but a vast 
world of water. I think I felt, more than ever 


4. 


38 Annals of a Beautiful Life. 


before, my utter dependence upon my Heavenly 
Father, and felt the support of His loving arms 
about us as He so carefully shielded us from harm 
and danger. I hope I have learned lessons from 
this life on the ocean which I shall never forget.” 
Speaking of her first view of Ireland, she says,— 
‘‘ The first thing that attracted my attention was 
the fields of green divided into squares by hedges. 
I think there were as many shades of green as 
there were squares—on account of the scarcity of 
rain, I suppose. And yet, to me, the different 
shades added very much to the picturesqueness of 
the scene. * * * J must not forget to mention 
the first ‘ivy green’ I saw, which was growing on 
arches in such a way as to remind me of pictures 
I had seen of cathedral ruins, where the ivy had 
climbed over them till they were literally covered 
with green.” After getting ashore, passing through 
the ordeal of the custom-house, and dispatching 
a lunch, we proceeded from Queenstown to Cork. 
‘© We sailed up the river Lee,” her diary continues, 
‘‘and a more romantic little stream one could not 
imagine. I did not wonder that so many elegant 
residences nestled in among the beautiful forests of 
green trees and climbing vines.” Of the ride to 
Blarney castle she writes,—* This was a charming 
drive of two hours, over hills and through valleys, 
and along beautiful lanes of arching trees and of 
evergreens. We reached the entrance of the cas- 








The Wife. 39 


tle at ten o’clock, * * * and after wending our 
way along a dusty lane, we stepped upon the door- 
stone of the old ruin. An old lady stood there, 
evidently expecting her mite for showing us about. 
We ascended a long staircase, winding, massive, 
and grand in its structure, and of solid stone. Up 
and up we climbed, until I began to despair of 
reaching the summit, occasionally stopping to take 
a look out of the long narrow windows used as 
port-holes in olden times for the archers to shoot 
from in case of an invasion. I never shall forget 
the feeling I had when I stood upon the top of that 
rocky mass. Fora moment I felt as if what had 
not given way was going to, and would carry us 
in the fall. We did not kiss the Blarney stone, for 
it was below our reach, but we gathered some ivy 
leaves and stones for mementos.” 

We went from Cork to Killarney. She says,— 
“We reached Killarney station at about 6 o’clock, 
and were hustled into a cab, where we quietly re- 
mained till all the trunks were packed over our 
heads, and I thought if the top should fall through 
we should all be crushed. Fortunately no acci- 
dent occurred, and in half an hour’s time we drove 
up.to the Royal Victoria hotel.” She could 
hardly find words to express her delight, as she 
stood and gazed on the beautiful scenery. She 
says,—“ As I sit looking from my window upon 
these rugged hills and beautiful lakes, I can think 


40 Annals of a Beautiful Life. 


of nothing I have seen that will compare with 
their beauty.” She always said that the most de- 
lightful spot she saw in Europe was the lakes of 
Killarney, because they were her first introduction 
to the old world, and therefore made most vivid 
impressions upon her. Just the expression she 
used to tell her thought was,—‘* I can only say of 
this lovely little place, ‘sweet exile from Para- 
dise.' 7 | | 

I might quote other extracts, in which she 
speaks of the ride through the gap of Dunloe, and 
the tour of the lakes; our visit to the Duke of 
Westminster’s palace at Chester; to the English 
lakes ; to London and Paris; to Switzerland ;—but 
these serve to illustrate her appreciative love and 
enjoyment of nature. She had her own charac- 
teristic way of taking in scenes and photograph- 
ing them upon her mind. I remember when 
crossing the Briinig Pass, one of the very finest 
among the Alps, that she sat back in the carriage 
quietly, saying little, and with her eyes closed much 
of the time. I thought she was losing the thrilling 
views, and spoke to her about it. She assured 
me she was getting it all; and sure enough, for she 
would often give such vivid descriptions of that 
ride across that pass, as almost to make the listener 
believe he could see the very spot. She said very 
little ; was never a person of many words; did not 
go into ecstacies ;—but she was sure to get vivid and 








The Wife. AI 


accurate impressions, have quite as keen pleasure 
as those more demonstrative, and always said some- 
thing worth being said when she spoke about what 
she had seen. I think one secret of her love of na- 
ture was, she saw in it the work of her Heavenly 
Father’s loving hand. 


6.—THE CHANGE FROM CONCORD TO CLEVELAND. 


She had, in certain respects, a very intense na- 
ture. Hence, ties of friendship bound her very 
strongly. They were never broken. If new ones 
were formed, the old ones remained strong. Hence, 
when she came to leave Concord for Cleveland, 
leave the friends whom she had tried and proved 
for six years, for she knew not what, the strain 
upon her was tremendous. The first weeks in the 
new parish were weeks of unutterable homesick- 
ness. But this gave place to a deep, unselfish love 
for the work in Cleveland, to which she became 
convinced God had called us. She lived to feel 
that the change, though hard, was wise. Her own 
words can tell it best. ‘The following was written 
to a lady in Concord: 


CLEVELAND, Dec. 23, 1878. 
My Dear Mrs. W. ; 


* * * Itis more than a year since we left 
our home in Concord, and although it has passed 
quickly, much of it seems like a dream. I am 
quite willing the first of our stay should seem like 





42 Annals of a Beautiful Life. 


one, for they were days of homesickness. I did 
not enjoy leaving off the old and putting on the 
new. But things have changed, and I am happy 
again in our pleasant relations. We are very fond 
of the people here: they certainly deserve to be 
loved, for their kindness has been unstinted. Not- 
withstanding, our intense love for our former home 
and friends can never stow daint.) 7 7 
I would tell you a little about our church, only I 
could not do it justice in a letter. We are having 
a very interesting religious interest. Over seventy- 
five asked the prayers of God’s people two weeks 
ago, and more have since. Nearly one hundred 
have united with the church since a year ago. 
They are a devoted, working people. God is evi- 
dently blessing them for the earnest efforts they 
put forth. Such a work cannot be done by a few, 
but all must be interested. ‘To-night we have our 
social. ‘The ladies are making a great preparation 
for the supper. We are as happy here as we could 
ask to be, and the work is a very encouraging 
aC AGEL aS 
Your loving friend, 
IsaBEL L. BLAKE. 

Nothing could shake her loyalty to the people 
who welcomed her so warmly when she came 
among them a young wife, and who made her life 
among them so spotlessly happy. Nor could any- 
thing shake her loyalty to duty; and so her love 
was getting firmly rooted in Cleveland. For she 


believed the Lord had a work for us to do here, 


and that was sufficient for her. 





P lage ace SA emis aac taal 


leer 


a ia ee AE vi a lear ea 


otk: 
sty 


Sa pare 


oe 
aie 


$x. 


Tel i a’ isaac 





The Wefe. 43 


7.—LOVE FOR CHRIST THE CROWN-JEWEL OF HER LIFE. 


But the love which towered above every other, 
and which nothing could shake, was her love for 
her blessed Savior. From the time she gave her 
heart to the Master at the age of 14, till she died 
at the age of 32,—eighteen years,—her love never 
grew cold, nor did her faith waver. In the dread- 
ful sickness of the last weeks, and in the very last 
hours when she knew she could not get well, her 
faith and love stood firm upon the Rock. 

Her Christian character was one of the notice- 
able things about her that made her so winsome to 
every one. Letters already quoted put her Chris- 
tian thought in her own words. In 1869 she went 
to Brooklyn, N. Y., to spend the winter. During 
her stay she was quite ill. On recovering, she 
writes to one of the young ladies in Pepperell,—* I 
am quite like myself again, and can you wonder I 
am delighted? I have had everything done for 
me, and I suppose that is one reason I have got 
better. But with whatever care we may have, our 
sickness is in the hand of a higher power. I can 
only say that I have been kindly and wonderfully 
dealt by.” When we chanced to be separated 
from each other for a short time, which was not 
often, her letters were a great comfort, both be- 
cause of the expressions of her love with which 
they were always so rich, and because of her sweet 


44. Annals of a Beautiful Life. 


confidence and faith in God. A few quotations 
will illustrate the beautiful Christian spirit which 
gave fragrance to all she said, or did, or thought. 
Writing from Chicago, she says, speaking of our 
people,—“ God has certainly been very good to us, 
and given us many blessings,—yes, blessings without 
number. I am thankful, and hope that we both 
shall be willing to lead unselfish lives for Him.” 
At another time, speaking of kind words from one | 
of our most esteemed Concord friends, she wrote,— | 
‘* Tow much God gives us. I hope we shall be 
faithful in return.” At still another time she 
wrote,—‘‘ I want to be much to you, and help you 
in your work, so that the whole end and aim of 
our life may be for the glory of God.” Such ex- 
pressions as these, which enriched almost every 
letter she ever wrote me as a wife, show how en- 
tirely her heart was in the work God had assigned 
to our lives. I think also that they show, very 
conclusively, that the prayer for divine help with 





a 
# 
od 
y Fe 
4 
ee 
in) 


which she came to bless and give joy to my life by 

her sweet companionship, was fully and graciously 

answered. ‘They illustrate, too, how ready she 

was to see the hand of God in every blessing, and _ 

to recognize His claim to her life, and love, and ; 

strength. ; y 
While her whole thought was to be usefuland —_ 


helpful, I do not think it ever occurred to her that 
she was so useful and helpful. She had too little 





The Wefe. 45 


self-consciousness for that. She knew that people 
esteemed her; but she never seemed to attribute 
this esteem to any virtue which others saw in her. 
She simply aimed to do her duty, and took delight 
in doing it. Dr. Cuyler said of Washington Irv- 
ing,—“ Fame never turned his head.” She was 
not spoiled by the love and admiration with which 
people regarded her. The sweet purities of her 
life were never soiled by any such pride. What- 
ever she had to be thankful for she gratefully re- 
ceived as a gift from God, which she never attrib- 
uted to any worthiness in herself, but to His con- 
descending love. Itis safe to love such a soul. It 
was safe to love her, for I know that she never for 
one moment was betrayed into pride. She was 
still the same quiet, simple, winsome woman, 
thinking kindly and well of everybody, never 
wounding a single soul by sharp words or rude- 
ness, and always loving to hide away from the 
public eye in her own home. 

I cannot tell the help she has beento me. I 
never did anything without first asking her advice. 
Her rare good judgment, her sweet counsel, her 
prayers of undoubting faith, her pure and spotless 
life, her daily walk with God, the Christian joy 
and peace which filled her soul, the deep and 
prayerful interest which she took in the salvation 
of sinners,—all such qualities made her a tower of 
strength, and a Christian counsellor of rare wis- 


46 Annals of a Beautiful Life. 


dom. The New York Zvangelist, speaking of 
the value of a true wife to a minister, says,—‘** How 
beyond all price to the minister, often burdened 
with perplexing cares, is the companionship of 
one who is his best counsellor and friend,—one 
who may suggest with freedom, and yet never 
wound, for her suggestions are those of the truest 
and tenderest affection. How soft is the radiance 
of this gentle presence, which lights up not merely 
the home, but life itself; how it cheers one in 
hours of despondency, and makes him strong 
again to go forth to the world, to take up once 
more the heavy task, and bear anew life’s burdens 
and cares! Such a wife is indeed man’s best 
friend this side heaven. Who that has such a 
friend—so near, so dear, so tender, and so true— 
will not daily fall on his knees, and bless the Being 
from whom he has received God’s best gift to 
man?’ Although this was called forth by praise 
of another pastor’s wife, who well deserved it, 
they are none the less true of her who was the 
‘good angel” of my home and of my life. A wife 
could not be more to a husband, nor fill a larger 
place in his usefulness, nor do more to add to it, 
than she. God only can know what He has been 
pleased to take away from me. He only can know 
what a blessing He gave me in her. Whatever 
His reasons for calling her home, He did not do so 
because I failed to appreciate her. She has been 








The Wefe. 47 


of priceless worth to me. She has made my life 
over, and I bow gratefully to own her sweet power. 
There is a large place empty which she filled. I 
try to wait patiently till that day shall dawn which 
no shadow shall cloud, and whose joy no death, 
nor pain, nor falling tears shall mar. 


8.—SIMPLICITY A CHARM OF HER RELIGIOUS LIFE. 


Her wants were surprisingly few, as compared 
with most people’s. All her tastes, as well as her 
whole manner of life, were exceedingly chaste and 
simple. She was so socially. In her home she 
was so. Those who saw her one day, saw her 
every day. The very atmosphere which surround- 
ed her was that of beautiful simplicity. Her man- 
ner of dress was like herself. A characteristic 
remark dropped in a letter written from Chicago, 
without a thought that other eyes than mine would 
ever read it, exactly expresses the spirit which gave 
such a charm to her whole life, and imparted to it 
such beneficent power: “An old Quaker lady got 
on the car to-day, and I thought how pretty her 
dress compared to the ladies who sat opposite to 
her, with their gold chains, bracelets, etc. The 
face of that Quakeress was so restful, and her dress 
so neat, that I was almost tempted to tell her, and 
ask her if I couldn’t join her band. I certainly am 
convinced that the worry of women over dress and 
finery is vain and wicked.” 


48 Annals of a Beautiful Life. 


The woman spoke in these words. They simply | 


voice herself. She shrank instinctively from every- 
thing which could possibly hint at love of display 
and publicity. If possible, her danger lay in the 
other and wiser direction. ‘There was in her an 
unaffected purity of character which raised her 


above possibility of deception, and gave her that gq 


open frankness which made her life irresistibly 
attractive, and lent a charm and a beauty to her 
piety which made religion winsome, as people saw 
it in her daily life. Her mind could not “be cor- 
rupted from the simplicity that is in Christ” by 
any of the vanities of the world. I believe her 
religious life illustrated the words of James: ‘ But 
the wisdom that is from above is first pure, then 
peaceable, gentle, easy to be entreated, full of 
mercy and good fruits, without partiality, and 
without hypocrisy. And the fruit of righteous- 
ness is sown in peace of them that make peace.” 


9.—HER RELIGION A REALITY. 


The simplicity of her religious character appear- 
ed also in the matter-of-fact way in which she 
regarded Christian life. It was no mere theory 
with her. Of theory she knew or cared very little. 
She often said she could belong to almost any 
church, if it was Christ’s. But her religion was 
something to live by every day. She was too 
guileless to wrest the word of God, but always 








The Wefe. 49 


took it to mean what it said. Hence heaven was 
just as much of a reality to her, as really a place, 
as Concord, or Cleveland, or Pepperell, and God 
and Christ and the Holy Spirit were as real to her 
as her own friends. Her daily communion with 
them, and talk about them, was as if they were to 
her an actual, conscious presence. 

I said religion was not to her a mere theory. 
She dealt with it, and talked to people about it, as 
if it were a matter of course. As one said of 
another,—‘‘She never argued in respect to religious 
“matters. She /zved religion; it was a matter of 
experience with her; she had no doubt in regard 
to its reality; and it seemed like sacrilege to 
admit that there could be any valid objection to 
it.’* Hence she had a peculiar faculty of talking 
to people about religion, as if it were as real and 
precious to them as to her. Consequently she often 
had access to ears which would have been shut to 
most people. She could not understand how any 
one could help being interested in the question - 
which to her was so momentous. In the last 
days, before she expected so soon to pass over the 
hidden line, and when, as it now seems, she was 
ripening for this great change, she said,—‘‘ I have 
everything to live for; and yet why will people 
cling so to this life, when heaven is so much more 
glorious?’ Our conversation often turned upon 





* Congregationalist, Sept. 17, 1879, p. 3. 


50 Annals of a Beautiful Life. = 7 


the truths of God’s word, and then upon the world — 
to come, and always she had that same simple, — 
unaffected faith, which had as much confidence in 
the reality of these things as if her eyes had seen 
what they now do see, and her hands had touched 
what they now do touch. Her Savior, to her, was 


not a myth, but a blessed reality, and the chiefest — 


among ten thousands, and the one altogether lovely. 
I never heard her express the least doubt about her 
acceptance with God, and I do not think she had 
any. _ 
To her, the Bible was the book of books. She — 
loved to read it. Especially did she delight in the © 
first epistle and the gospel of John. One of the 
sisters writes,—‘‘ I know one time when we were 
down home, Bell told me how beautiful she thought 
the fourteenth chapter of John was. I had always 
thought so too, but now it will seem more beautiful 
to me than ever.” She was not satisfied merely to 
say over the words of a chapter, and then lay the 
blessed book aside. She wanted to find its mean- 
ing, and learn the will of God. Always, in our 
morning devotions, we would linger over the pas- 
sage, and talk about it, and make it a study. We 
were growing more and more into this habit, and 
the Bible was coming to be to both of us, more than 
ever, a marvellous book. Often, when she would 
remain at home on a Sabbath morning, I would 
find, on returning from church, that she had spent 








The Woefe. 51 


the hour in reading God’s word. Almost always 
she would say,—‘‘I have found a text for you for 
next week ;” and she would tell me her idea about 
it, and offer such practical thoughts as were sure to 
start a very inspiring train of reflection. In fact, 
I scarcely ever wrote a sermon which was not in 
some such way due to her. Often I got the plan 
and main points of the theme from her, and many 
of the discourses which she thus suggested were 
most blessed of God. 

She always read the Bible as God’s message to 
inan, and as such she accepted it. She understood 
God to méan what He said. She never had any 
doubt about it. It wasall real to her. The prom- 
ises were not fictions; the threats were not myths. 
Christ was her Savior, because the Bible said so. 
Eternal life she was sure of, because God had 
promised it. She had no doubt about being ac- 
cepted, because she had the sure word of Heaven. 
She loved the book. It was her guide, and the 
lamp to her path. In it alone she found the way 
to live, and so lived. During the last days, when 
she was able, we had our morning devotions at 
her bedside, and the last chapter she ever heard 
read was that wonderful one, the eighth of Romans. 
Her earthly communion with the word of God 
ended with these thrilling words, which fitly epito- 
mize the faith in which she had lived: “For Iam 
persuaded, that neither death, nor life, nor angels, 


52 Annals of a Beautiful Life. 


' nor principalities, nor powers, nor things present, 
nor things to come, nor height, nor depth, nor any 
other creature, shall be able to separate us from the 
love of God, which is in Christ Jesus our Lord.” In 
such blessed, assuring faith she died, and nothing 
was able to separate her from the love of God. 

It will be readily understood that prayer, with 
her, was not a mere repetition of words, but talking 


with God face to face about her soul’s wants. It _ 


never seemed to occur'to her that God would not 
hear her, that she was talking into the air. She 
prayed as if she were speaking into an ear open 
and ready to listen. She always went to God with 
the confidence of a child coming to a parent. 
Prayer was a reality to her. I had great faith in 
her prayers, and it gave me great strength to know 
that she was asking God to bless me. Her ideas of 
the nature of prayer were very exalted, and seemed 
to me correct. She thought it consisted in thanking 
God for blessings, and in telling Him our: wants. 
And in what else can it consist? But she was far 
from selfish in her thought of it, as she was in all 
her religious life; for she was interested in the 
welfare of others, and believed in interceding in 
their behalf with Him who had done so much for 
her. She certainly did prevail with God, if we 
may judge from the fruits of her life. And why 
may we not believe that her prayers are had in re- 
membrance before Him, and that they are among 








The Wafe. 53 


the prayers of the saints, which were the odors in 
the golden vials in the hands of the elders who 
fell down before the Lamb ?—/rev. 5:8. 

In her home life all these qualities shone in 
stronger light than before the world. It is some- 
times said that we need to see how one lives at 
home, to get a true test of Christian character. She 
would have stood that test. As I look back over 
the eight blessed years that she shone as the light of 
my life, I cannot find anything in her religious ex- 
perience which one could wish to have different. 
She often said, with perfect sincerity, that if she 
were to live her life over, she did not know where- 
in she could make any very great change. This 
was no boasting, or assumption of anything like 
approach to perfection. She had no such thought 
as that; but it was the expression of a constant and 
conscientious effort to live in obedience to the will 
of God. It was the expression of spotless purity 
of thought and purpose. I do not believe she ever 
had a thought, purpose, or act, to conceal. She 
was ignorant of very many things in which young 
ladies now are wise, but she was wise beyond 
many in those things which belong to nobility of 
character. 


10.—LOVE FOR THE CAUSE OF MISSIONS. 


I think her interest in missionary work was bet- 
ter understood in Concord than in Cleveland. In 


5 


* 


54 Annals of a Beautiful Life. 


. Concord she was one of the foremost ones in the 
Union Missionary Society, of which she was made 
a life-member by the young ladies. Twice was she 
elected secretary of the Woman’s Board. A third 
election was offered her, which she felt obliged to 
decline. Extracts from her annual report to the 
society, in January, 1877, will be read with interest, 
as expressing her views of the vast work: 


‘‘Another year has sweetly and mercifully dawn- 
ed upon us, and we stand, as it were, on its very 
edge, possibly too fearful on account of the errors 
of the past to have full confidence in ourselves in 
the future. As we thus reflect, the apostle’s words 
come to us with double meaning,—‘ Forgetting 
those things which are behind, and reaching forth 
unto those things which are before.’ With this 
precious thought to inspire, shall it not be-our aim 
in the coming year to pray more earnestly and 
labor more faithfully for this Missionary Society, 
whose interests should be very dear to all our 
hearts? When we read such touchingly sweet and 
trustful letters from the missionaries, who have 
left their homes of luxury to go out and labor 
among these poor, unenlightened women, do not 
our hearts go out in sympathy, and a new zeal to 
be up and doing? I think we all know the value 
of kind words. It may not ever be our privilege to 
speak to any of these, but it zs our privilege to pray 
for them; and who shall know the value of one 
prayer that ascends to the Father in simple, child- 
like faith, believing? Tennyson says,— 


‘°T is only noble to be good.’ 
Would that he had added, to do good.” 








The Wife. 55 


Here follows a brief account of the year’s work 
of the society. Then she adds,— 


“ Christ says, ‘to whom much is given, of him 
shall much be required.’ We can but feel that God 
has smiled His blessing upon us in allowing us to 
receive so much from His hand. The advantages 
with which His unstinted love has surrounded us 
ought certainly to make us more obedient to His 
will. God has given us a multitude of blessings 
in common. Besides these, He has given us bless- 
ings which are peculiar to each. 

‘“The apostle says,—‘ There are diversities of 
gifts, but the same spirit ;’ ‘ differences of adminis- 
tration, but the same Lord ;’ ‘diversities of opera- 
tions, but it is the same God which worketh all in 
all.” However, then, we may differ in our personal 
qualifications for Christian work, the blessings of 
each are abundant, and the fruit required is abun- 
dant; but all our efforts to extend God’s kingdom 
will result in the one end, of glorifying Him, if we 
are all actuated by the same spirit. As the spring 
unlocks the hidden calyx of the flower, and per- 
fumes the air with its odor, and delights our senses, 
so may our hearts be unlocked by the divine Spirit, 
with a fresh consecration, to send out more freely 
of our works, our offerings, and our prayers. 

“The work itself may seem small, the sphere 
in which we move unnoticed by the world; but 
Christ says,—‘ He that is faithful in that which is 
least, is faithful also in much;’ and he said to the 
servants who had the two and five pounds, ‘ Thou 
hast been faithful over a few things, I will make 
thee ruler over many things; enter thou into the 


joy of thy Lord.’” 


56 Annals of a Beautiful Life. 


After hearing the report, the ladies tried to 
persuade her to let it be read at the monthly con- 
cert in the churches; but she was too distrustful 
of its merits to consent. The judgment of others 
was more just to her than she was to herself. Her 
retiring nature appears, from the fact that it cost 
her a great effort to present her report in the little 
company of ladies, and the strain upon her was. 
such that she felt its effects for weeks. She shrank, 
like a sensitive plant, from all such prominence. 


11.—HER INTEREST IN THE SALVATION OF SOULS. 


Letters already quoted show how deeply she 
was interested in the work of the church. She 
gave her thought and heart to it, more than was 
generally known. It gave her great joy when any 
anxiously asked what they must do to be saved, 
and still greater joy when at last they came into 
the church. Her desire to see souls saved was 
such as might be expected from one as wholly 
given as she was to the work of the Redeemer’s 
kingdom. There are those in Concord and in 
Cleveland who have been the subjects of her 
prayers, and if they are not saved at last, it will 
not be because she failed of her duty to them. 
Very soon after going to Concord she took a class 
of girls in the Sabbath-school. Before she felt 
obliged to give it up, her personal efforts with its 
members resulted in the conversion of nearly all 








The Wife. e ake 


of them. She herself led them to Christ, by God’s 
blessing, and they came into the church through 
her influence. One of the first things she thought 
of, on coming to Cleveland, was a prayer-meeting, 
by which she might reach the young girls of the 
church. She had it long enough to show what 
might reasonably be expected from it; but there 
were reasons why she deemed it wise not to con- 
tinue it. 

She never missed opportunities for urging re- 
ligion upon those with whom she came in contact ; 
and she always did it with such gentleness and 
grace as never to cause offence. She spent the 
summer of 1877 at the sea-shore. One morning a 
young man from Concord, who was boarding near, 
called at our cottage. He was inclined to be scep- 
tical. She spent the whole morning in pointing 
him to the Saviour, with a straight-forward faith- 
fulness which was like her. That very day, not 
three hours after he had left her, he perished in 
the flames of a burning building. Doubtless she 
was the last to urge upon him the importance of 
making his peace with God at once. I do not think 
that any soul can stand up at the last day and re- 
proach her with known neglect of duty. 


12.—SHE BEING DEAD YET SPEAKETH. 


This simple story, which I have taken sad com- 
fort and pleasure in writing, since the beautiful tale 


58 * Annals of a Beautiful Life. 


has ceased telling itself here, might be lengthened — 


indefinitely by such facts as these. Her life ended 
on that beautiful July morning, and yet it did not 
end. The words of the writer to the Hebrews 


come to me; and I say that she being dead yet | 


speaks by her fragrant memory, and her beautiful 
life, and her counsels of wisdom and love. For 
these come back to me with the vividness of noon- 
day’s light, as if Christ’s words had become bless- 
edly true of her,—namely, that.whatever she said 
by way of advice or counsel, and whatever gra- 
cious influence she exerted, are brought to delight- 
ful remembrance. Words are too poor to tell what 
a wife she has been. Language has not wealth 
enough of expression to tell the richness of her 
life to me. ‘‘ Her price was far above rubies.” 


‘‘Upon my troubled life 
She gently shone, as shineth some fair star 
Upon tempestuous waters, as this night 
Upon the swellings dark of Jordan shines 
The summer moon. 
* * * * * * 

And she was my delight 
And comfort for a while, a little while, 
Until God called her.” 


The struggle to give her up has been a terrible 
one, and even yet it sometimes returns upon the soul 
with an almost malignant fury of crushing force. 


* Ezekiel—a poem. e 








The Wefe. , 59 


I cannot bless God enough that He let me have 
her so long—eight blessed years, on whose sky her 
memory leaves not a cloud. The words of Mary 
Wollstonecraft Godwin, about the poet Shelley, 
whom she seems to have loved intensely, come to 
me about Isabel : 


‘* But, ah! I feelin this was given 
A blessing never meant for me; 
Thou art too like a dream from heaven 
For earthly love to merit thee.” 


Her life was not long. Thirty-two is but at the 
threshold, as we are wont to reckon. But if a life 
is to be measured by ‘ deeds, not words,” if 


‘« That life is long which answers life’s great end,” 


her life was not short. For the chief end of man 
is to glorify God, and enjoy him forever. She did 
glorify God, and she has entered on the eternal en- 
joyment of the Divine presence. Her life was 
long for what she did, and the imperishable mem- 
ory she has left behind her will live forever. 

I do not claim for her that she excelled all other 
women. Ido not claim that no other woman ever 
did her part as well. Ido not claim that no other 
woman was greater, as the world reckons. I do 
not claim that she filled a place in as wide a 
sphere as such women as Mary Lyon, or Alice and 
Phebe Cary, whom she regarded with unfeigned 


60 Annals of a Beautiful Lefe. 


admiration; but that in the sphere in which she 
was called to walk she lived as unselfishly, and 
did her part as well, as woman can. And higher 
praise cannot be bestowed than that which Christ 


bestowed,—‘‘ She hath done what she could.” In 


this respect, as in every other, her life is worth 
taking as a model; and I cannot wish more or bet- 
ter things for the coming women, than that they 
may be such daughters as she was, and make as 
faithful, wise, loving wives. I confess Il was proud 
of her—perhaps too fondly so. Yet I never saw 
her in any place which her presence did not grace. 
As one said of her since her death, **She could 
not be other than graceful.” But her grace was 
not put on. It was nature polished and made 
beautiful by the Spirit of God. It was character. 
At any rate, I know that I may be pardoned if I 
say,—for her sweet life justifies me in it,—that 
there can be no purer, gentler, womanlier woman, 
or a more Christlike Christian. 








Nd 
ie LAST. DAYS. 


It is left to tell briefly, for those who may not 
know it, the sad story of the last days. The heart 
swells to bursting, and the eyes run over with 
tears, as those hours of suffering are recalled which 
no skill availed to relieve for a single moment. 
From the very first her sickness was of a startlingly 
malignant form. So violent was it, that for six or 
seven weeks she could take scarcely any nourish- 
ment; the last two weeks, none at all. Through it 
all she was the same patient, cheerful, Christian 
woman, thankful for everything done for her, and 
looking on to the future with an eager and a delight- 
ed sense and expectancy of motherhood which 
was too sacred to be spoken. She talked much, 
as she always did freely, about dying, and heaven, 
and the glory of the other world—more the last 
days of her life. Precious and consoling is the 
memory of her sweet trust and fearless hope. The 
night before she died, when it was not thought the 
end was near, she said, with that triumph which 
God gives His saints, “I am not afraid to die.” 


62 Annals of a Beautiful Life. 


It seemed to me during her sickness, and seems to 
me now as [ think of it, that, if possible, she had 
been growing in loveliness the last months of her 
life. Was she not ripening for heaven? 


Very early Wednesday morning, July 30, it be- 
came painfully evident that she had not strength 


to get through, so completely had her long and dis- 
tressing sickness taken away the vitality from her 
naturally frail, delicate, and sensitive organism. 
How frail, delicate, and sensitive she was could 
be known by only those who were with her con- 
stantly, for her uncomplaining spirit always had 
a smile and a word of sympathy for others; and 
she has sat and listened to their woes without a 
word about herself, mingled her tears freely with 
theirs, and then gone from letting them out at the 
front door to lie down and rest from the severe 
strain which had been put upon her. She was 
too weak, this last morning, to talk very much, but 
her mind was perfectly clear. She was heard to 
say ‘*My mother,” as if she had said ‘I want to 
see my mother.” She was asked if that was what 
she said, and answered Yes. Presently she said, 
**T do not think I shall get well;” and then, after a 
pause, ‘‘but Iam going to a better place.” After 


a little her face lighted with a heavenly rapture, — 


and she said, with closed eyes, as if she were talk- 
ing to one whom we did not see, ‘‘ Beautiful, deau- 
tiful heaven.” A little later I asked her if she 








The Last Days. 63 


could recall the twenty-third Psalm. She answered 
that she could. I said, Can you say now “ The 
Lord is my shepherd,” &c.? ‘*Oh! yes,” was her 
reply. Can you leave yourself wholly with Jesus? 
I inquired; and again the same reply, given in ac- 
cents whose sweetness can never die on my ear, 
‘Oh! yes.” She knew us all, and called us by 
name. In a few minutes she asked to be lifted. 
When we laid her back, her eye had a far-off look, 
as if she were looking beyond the veil. A light 
. of glory stole over her features. Gently, calmly, 
and without a struggle, she fell asleep, at 7:10 
o'clock, Wednesday morning, July 30. Her death 
was glorious in its simple beauty. It did not seem 
like death. There were no terrors, but triumph. 
A lady who was by her side when she died, said 
that heaven seemed real, standing by that death- 
bed. As we saw her lay her head down on the 
bosom of the Saviour she loved, we said, ‘‘ Let me 
die the death of the righteous, and let my last end 
be like his.” Her whole life was like a beautiful 
June morning. Her death was like the rich golden 
flush on the evening sky of a ripe autumnal day. 
She has left behind her a beautiful life. In think- 
ing it over since it became the greater part of my 
own, I can find no spot to mar the beautiful color- 
ing. She died as she had lived—peacefully, glo- 
riously, triumphantly. Because she had lived for 
Christ, she died in the all-embracing arms of His 


64 — Annals of a Beautiful Life. 


love. I was permitted to go with her from the 
moment her sickness began till her feet touched 
the cold waters of the river of death. I was per- 
mitted to close her eyes in their final sleep. I 
could do no more, and go no farther. I stand on 
the hither shore, and wait. As one of the sisters 
wrote me after her death, it remains for us to im- 
itate her example of Christ-like living. 
._ Her funeral was held at the home she loved so 
much, 664 Case Avenue, Thursday morning, July 
31. Rev. J. E. Twitchell, p.p., of East Cleve- 
land, conducted the sad services, and made remarks 
most appropriate and comforting, a brief synopsis 
of which appears in another place. The follow- 
ing hymns were sung by members of the church 
choir—hymns which were especial favorites with 
her. One was the beautiful hymn, ‘‘O Parapisg !” 
founded on the passage, ‘‘ There the wicked cease 
from troubling, and the weary are at rest.” | 


‘“*O Paradise! O Paradise! 
Who doth not crave for rest? 
Who would not seek that happy land, 
Where they that loved are blest? CHorus. 


‘*O Paradise! O Paradise! 
’T is weary waiting here ; 
I long to be where Jesus is, 
To feel, to see Him near. CHORUS. 








i 


The Last Days. 65 


‘‘O Paradise! O Paradise! 
I greatly long to see 
The special place my dearest Lord 
Is destining for me. CHORUS. 


‘“¢O Paradise! O Paradise! 

I feel ’t will not be long: 
Patience! I almost think I hear 
Faint fragments of thy song. 


‘*CHorus. Where loyal hearts and true 
Stand ever in the light, 
All rapture through and through, 
In God’s most holy light.” 


_ The other hymn is entitled “ ARE THY TOILS,” 
and is founded on the passage, ‘‘ Weeping may 
endure for a night, but joy cometh in the morn- 
ing.” 


‘« Are thy toils and woes increasing? 
Are thy foe’s attacks unceasing? 
Look with faith unclouded, 

Gaze with eyes unshrouded, 
On the Cross. 


‘‘ Dost thou fear that strictest trial? 
Tremblest thou at Christ’s denial? 
Never rest without it, 

Clasp thine hands about it, 
That dear Cross. 


66 Annals of a Beautiful Life. 


‘¢ Draw’st thou nigh to Jordan’s river? 
Should’st thou tremble? Need’st thou quiver? 
No! if by it lying, 
No! if on it dying, - 
On the Cross ! 


‘¢ Lord and Master ! if we cherish 
That sweet hope, we cannot perish ! 
After this life’s story, 
Give thou us the glory 

For the Cipss.” 


The house was filled to overflowing with friends 
who came to take a last look at her lovely face, 
and to prove how deep and wide a hold she had 
got upon the people. A beautiful crown, and an 
anchor furnished by the Sabbath-school and by 
the ladies, and a great profusion of cut flowers 
sent in by other friends, were thoughtful and fra- 
grant tokens of the love they bore her. She loved 
flowers—loved them almost passionately. How 
could she help it, since she and they were beauti- 
ful creations of the same hand of infinite skill! 
These sweet offerings of love to her precious mem- 
ory were therefore peculiarly fitting. 

The elders of the church acted as bearers. They 
bore her tenderly away from the home of which 
she had been the light and joy, and a great dark- 
ness settled down upon it and filled it. We took 
her to the train which was to bear her away on 











The Last Days. 67 


her last journey to the home of her childhood. In 
our early plans for vacation, this was the week 
and this the train we had fixed upon to start. But, 
alas! such a starting was not in our thought. 
Truly, man proposes, but God disposes. Two 
elders were thoughtfully sent by the church to be 
their representatives at the last sad rites in the 
dear home at Pepperell. The train moved out of 
the station at 3 o’clock, and we bade adieu toa host 
of friends who had come to the station to do the 
last they could for her whom they had learned, in 
so brief a time, to love so well. 

The services at Pepperell, in an equal manner, 
attested the love with which she was loved in the 
home of her childhood, and in the South Church 
in Concord. A large number of friends from Con- 
cord came to express their deep and genuine sor- 
row, and to represent a larger number who could 
not come. Profuse and beautiful floral decorations 
sent from New York, brought by the Concord 
friends, accompanying us from Cleveland, and 
contributed by those in Pepperell who loved her, 
filled the house with a fragrance which was a type 
of the lingering sweetness of her blessed life. 

Rev. Geo. F. Swain, pastor of the church in 
Pepperell, into whose communion she entered 
when she first publicly declared herself to be one 
of Christ’s own, conducted the services. ‘These 
were made peculiarly interesting, not only by his 


68 Annals of a Beautiful Life. 


words of testimony to her worth of character, but 
also by those of Dea. C. W. Harvey of the South 
Church in Concord, and of Elder H. M. James of 
the Woodland Avenue Church in Cleveland, who 
voiced the feelings of these churches, where she 
had been known so well as the wife of their pas- 
tor. A quartette of the young people added to the 
occasion by singing one of the hymns of Mr. Bliss, 
suggested by words which she was fond of quot- 
ing,—“ We know that when He shall appear we 
shall be like Him, for we shall see Him as He is.” 
She loved this hymn, and often sang it with great 
sweetness and expression. It will ever be, with 
some of us, sacred to her memory, and we shall 
know it as her hymn: 


‘¢T know not the hour when my Lord will come 
To take me away to His own dear home; 
But I know that His presence will lighten the gloom, 
And that will be glory for me. 


‘¢T know not the song that the angels sing, 
I know not the sound of the harps’ glad ring ; 
But I know there ’ll be mention of Jesus our King, 
And that will be music for me. 


‘¢T know not the form of my mansion fair, 
I know not the name that I then shall bear; 
But I know that my Savior will welcome me there, 
And that will be heaven for me.” 








The Last Days. 69 


There was such a quiet simplicity and lack of 
formality about all the services, that we almost 
forgot it was a funeral. And I am not sure that it 
was not, to some of the hearts which bled, a sea- 
son of holy joy, that God had so honored us by 
putting a glorious crown of life on her brow. At 
least, I am sure that heaven will seem nearer than 
ever before to some of us, and that we shall feel a 
certain right of possession in it, now that our 
Savior and hers has taken her to Himself. 

A large and tearful company gathered about her 
last resting-place. Some kind hand had fringed 
the sacred spot with evergreen—sprigs from the 
Arbor Vite; as if Heaven itself had given us these 
tokens that she had now a right to the ‘tree of 
life,’ among those whom John speaks of in Rev- . 
elations 22:14, and that she had entered through 
the gates into the celestial city, and that she should 
live forever. There was no terror in that grave. 
As she was gently laid away in it, it lost its vic- 
tory and became a hallowed spot. It did not seem 
as if it would be hard to lie there too. For the 
Master stood there with some of us, and we knew 
that we had left her with Him, and that in a little 
time He would fulfil to us, as He had to her, the 
promise, ‘And if I go and prepare a place for 
you, I will come again and receive you unto my- 
self; that where I am, there ye may be also.” A 
hymn, ‘Jesus, lover of my soul,” &c., which she 


6 


70 Annals of a Beautiful Life. 


often sang, was sung, a brief committal service 
was said, and all that was mortal of the loved and 
lovely daughter, sister, wife, was left to rest in the 
ground, in a living hope and belief in the resur- 
rection, through Jesus Christ, who said, “I am 
the resurrection and the life: he that believeth in 
me, though he were dead, yet shall he live: and 
whosoever liveth and believeth in me shall never 
die.” And so we came away, thinking of her, not 
as in the grave, but as with Christ. 

Standing by the coffin of his dead brother, Rob- 
ert Ingersoll said,—* Life is a narrow vale, between 
the cold and barren peaks of two eternities. We 
strive in vain to look beyond the heights. We 
cry aloud, and the only answer is the echo of our 
wailing cry. From the voiceless lips of the unre- 
plying dead there comes no word; but in the night 
of death hope sees a star, and, listening, love can 
hear the rustle of a wing.” And the strong man 
stood there with no comfort or support in his 
grief and loss. Sweet little Edith, but five years 
old, who had never before seen the face of the 
dead, full of questions, as she stood gazing into 
the casket, could not understand about the auntie 
whom she had seen but two short months before 
in the flush and bloom of health. At last she 
thought out the problem in her own little head, 
and was satisfied, and awoke the auntie she was 
sleeping with to tell her solution of it. ‘“‘I know 








The Last Days. 71 


now how it is about Auntie Isabel. Her dody is in 
the churchyard, but her /zfe has gone to be with 
God.” Oh! sweet and childish faith, old as the 
time of the preacher who said, ‘‘And the spirit 
shall return unto God who gave it,” thou hast been 
our only comfort and support under this blow, 
which has fallen with crushing weight of sorrow 
upon our hearts. From the lips of our dead does 
come back a word to our ears, and that word is 
the word of God, voiced by the child who solved 
the problem before which the proud philosopher 
stood bafled. Death was swallowed up in victory. 

She sleeps sweetly in Jesus, in the cemetery of 
_ the beautiful town of her birth; and her grave is 
under the shadows of the trees, where the moon 
she loved so well can look over and smile upon 
her resting-place, when it rises to begin its voyage 
through the Night. When the last trump shall 
break the silence of the tomb, the dead in Christ 
shall rise, and she shall be among them, glorious 
in eternal beauty. For the mouth of the Lord 
hath spoken it.* 

The following lines express my thoughts so well, 
I quote them here: 


‘‘T must fulfil 
My stormy day. * sj z ig ge 
* 


co * 2 * ok * 2 
By my ruined home 
I stand to speak for God, and stretch my hands, 
* 1 Thess. 4: 13-17. 


t 


72 


Annals of a Beautiful Life. 


Emptied of their sweet treasure, in God’s name 
To all the people. And the Lord alone 
Himself doth comfort me. 

And when at length 
The evening-time of my long day shall come, 
And God shall give me leave to lay aside 
The prophet’s mournful mantle for the robe 
Of joy and light,—when at His Gate I find 
An everlasting entrance, there my love 
Shall meet me smiling. After my long day 
Of storm and conflict, I shall feel once more 
The joy of finding her awaiting me 
At eventide, and drawing me to rest 
With her in God. Then shall I hear at length ~ 
Her sweet voice singing to harps of gold, 
And see her crowned with joy.t 


} Ezekiel, 








Uy: 
DR. TWITCHELL’S REMARKS AT HER FUNERAL. 


Only a synopsis of the remarks of Dr. Twitchell 
can be given, and that cannot do them justice. 
What he said was largely inspired by the occasion, 
and was so eminently appropriate and comforting, 
that it is a matter of regret that we cannot have 
his exact words to record. 


THE REMARKS. 


In some respects this is no uncommon scene. 
With funeral services we are all familiar, yet they 
never lose their sadness. With all the light that 
plays about them, born of our blessed Christian 
faith, we walk in the shadows when we are be- 
reaved ; and we feel the need of an Almighty arm 
on which to lean. 

It is the manifest order of nature for the aged to 
die. They grow feeble under the weight of years. 
They have endured, enjoyed, and wrought unto 
the fulfilling of their earth-mission. Infirmities 
have multiplied upon them; burdens have grown 
heavy and heavier; their strength has become 


74 Annals of a Beautiful Life. 


labor and sorrow.. They expect to change worlds: 
we expect they will. Thus, with all the sense of 


grief, and loss, and loneliness left upon the living, q 


we are somewhat prepared for the separation. We 
always begin to think and talk of rest for the aged, 

It is widely different, however, when the child, 
or the youth, or one in the strength and vigor of 
early manhood or womanhood, passes from us into 
the spirit-world. Then it seems as if there had 
been some sudden reversal of law, and as if some 
unkind providence had interfered. At such a time 
no cold human philosophy can dispel the gloom; 
no mere human reasoning can give radiance to the 
bowed and bleeding heart. Nothing short of faith 
in Him who sees the end from the beginning, and 
who has given the assurance that all things shall 
work together for good to them that love God, can 
bring comfort and peace. 

If we could see things as God sees them, we 
should not murmur when our loved ones, who 
have grown God-like, take a vessel swifter bound, 
and reach the land of Beulah in advance of us. 

We are wont to measure life by the number of 
the years lived on earth. God measures life by the 
graces of the Spirit wrought into it, and the influ- 
ential forces that have gone forth from it. There 
are lives, of comparatively many years, of little 
development or use to the world. Then there are 
other lives, of comparatively few years, of won- 






rh; 





Remarks at Her Funeral. 75 


drous growth and power. We have no measure 
for spiritual embodiments and influences. We 
live, not in years, but in growths and deeds. 

We are accustomed to say that one’s work is 
done when the silver cord is loosed and the golden 
bowl is broken. But he whose heart has been 
pervaded with the breath of God, leaves behind 
him sweet fragrance never to be wafted from the 
world. The hands may cease their toil, the feet to 
run on errands of mercy, the voice be hushed; 
but there are holy ministries which go on perpet- 
uating themselves in the home, in the church, in 
society, through all the wide reach of undying 
influence. There is not a home out of which hus- 
band or wife has been borne to rest, but feels the 
beating of that life there, like the holy benediction 
of Heaven. Our friends go from us, but they re- 
main with us. The deeds they wrought, the sacri- 
fices they made, the words they spoke, the smiles 
they gave—all these are our everlasting legacy. 

We talk of separations. But the two worlds are 
nearer together by far than most imagine. There 
is no dark, wide river rolling between them. Often 
before the lights grow dim on this hither shore, 
they gleam from the farther side. Often adieus 
are scarcely spoken before greetings are exchanged. 
It is parting here, reunion there. Death is but the 
gateway into life. The gate swings;—we say, 
Farewell, and hear at once the welcome. 


76 Annals of a Beautiful Life. 







It is not always easy to grasp these truths and 
rest in them. But they become real to us, and it 
is wonderful how grace performs its work, as the 
end draws on. Angels always come for the 
strengthening of God’s own, as unto Him who tar- 
ried in Gethsemane, close on Calvary. God never 
leads His children, without giving them His hand; 
never puts them to any great test, without girding 
them for it by His own unseen presence and power. 
The waters are never permitted to overwhelm. 

Such is the experience of my dear brother in 
this sudden, deep affliction, which came like an 
avalanche upon him. ‘The curtain has fallen on 
a glorious life,” he said, ‘‘ but there is light some- — 
where, and I shall see it.” Yes, he wz//, he HAs. 
Such also was the experience of that pure, patient 
wife, whose going forth has left such desolation on 
this happy home, such a sense of loss on this 
church, where she had won her way to every heart, 
and on this community where the sweet influence 
of her godly life had begun to be felt far and wide. 

The life of her whom we mourn to-day was no 
ordinary life. It was full of blossoms all the way 
through. It ended, as our eyes are able to trace it, 
in a halo of glory. At the age of fourteen she 
gave her heart to Christ, and was the instrument 
then of leading many others into a knowledge of 
His saving grace. It was under the influence of 
no excitement that she was led to the Savior’s feet 


*« 





Remarks at Her Funeral. 77 


in blessed love and faith, but under a deep convic 
tion of duty and privilege. Her heart seemed to 
open like a flower of the morning, to drink in the 
_ dew and sunlight of the day. 

As the years of her childhood passed she grew 
in the knowledge and love of God, showing a re- 
markable conscientiousness and loyalty to the Mas- 
ter. Nothing was ever allowed to come between 
her soul and Christ. Her opening womanhood 
was of rare beauty and strength of Christian char- 
acter. When she came to be the wife of one of 
God’s ambassadors, she was found rarely fitted to 
share with him the burdens of his blessed work. 
The heart of her husband trusted in her, and was 
never disappointed. Greater eulogy than this can- 
not be passed upon woman, when you cover by it 
the whole wide range of Christian helpfulness. 

These eight years of married life have been years 
of joy and beauty. Encouraging her husband in 
times of anxiety and trial, making double the joys 
and hopes that came to him, moving quietly and 
unobtrusively among the people, avoiding all strife, 
entering into the pleasures and pains of others, she 
exerted a sweet and sanctifying influence through- 
out the whole circle of her connections. Coming 
to you, dear friends of the Woodland Avenue 
Church, some eighteen months ago, and taking up 
the duties of a pastor’s wife among you, she com- 
manded at once your completest confidence, and 


78 Annals of a Beautiful Life. 


won your hearts, illustrating, as she did, the won- 

derful grace of God to a believing, trusting soul. 
This affliction is heaviest on him who must come 

back alone to the home here when the last offices 


of love have been performed, and here take up 


alone the labor of a great parish, no more to have 
the sympathy, the encouragement, the inspiration, 
of an affectionate, faithful, heroic wife. 

But this affliction is of a public nature. One is 
taken from active labor on whom you, as a church 
and people, had hoped to lean; whose counsel you 
had expected to enjoy for many years; to whom 
you had looked to go in and out among you with 
her husband, fulfilling the duties of her station, 
aiding him as the Christian pastor’s wife alone can 
aid him. 

You will never forget her. You will never cease 
to cherish her precious memory. You will never 
escape the influence of her loving, patient, trust- 
ful, rejoicing life, and of her triumphant death. 
The halo of brightness which came—the crown of 
it all—as she was called up higher, will never de- 
part, but will rest like a holy benediction on the 
home and on the church, long days to come. Such 
a life of precious faith and pure love is not lived 
in vain, and such a glorious death occurs not in 
vain. 

There are many lessons that might be drawn 
from this affliction. Among them these: 





Sey) es ee ee ee 


Remarks at Her Funeral. 79 


First. We see the silent power of a Christian 
heart and life. Nature works noiselessly. ‘The 
breath of spring breathes on the earth, and dissolves 
the icy rigors of winter, and clothes the hills and 
valleys with verdure.” Thus divine grace works 
in the soul of man; often so silently as to attract 
little attention. Here was one walking quietly in 
the relation of wife, friend, and counsellor for all. 
Naturally timid, and shrinking from observation, 
she wrought on, ever cheering the heart of her 
husband when weary with multiplied cares; bid- 
ding him take hope when shadows of any kind 
began to gather; counselling him in all his work ; 
praying for him when he wrote sermons and when 
he preached them; praying for you often when 
your eyes were closed in sleep. The ages of eter- 
nity alone will give record of what she accom- 
plished through the influence of her Christian life, 
under the power of the Spirit of God. 

SECONDLY. We see here the wonderful grace of 
God in sustaining her when it became manifest 
that her days were numbered. Here was one who 
had not reached middle life; her home attractive ; 
her friends many; everything about her for com- 
fort and joy that earth could give,—yet perfectly 
resigned to leave all for the better, more glorious 
joys awaiting the redeemed. It was the wonder 
of her heart, which she often expressed in health, 
that men could so grasp after and live for the 


80 Annals of a Beautiful Life. 


things of this world, and cling so to earth, which 
can never satisfy the cravings of the soul, since 
Christ has gone to prepare a home so much more 
beautiful for those who love Him. Who shall say 
that, as the end drew near, the veil was not lifted? 
God giveth His children victory. The faith of the 
gospel triumphs. Nothing else does. 

Tuirpiy. There is an added responsibility put 
upon this church to-day. It is left for you to take 
up the work she has laid down, and to illustrate in 
your lives the faith which made her life so beauti- 
ful and efficient. 

FourTHLy. There is now, dear brother, the 
possibility of illustrating the comfort of God, which 
you have so often assured others should be found 
in their afflictions. 

We come here to-day sorrowing, yet rejoicing. 
We come with thanksgiving unto Him who giveth 
the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ. My 
dear brother, the Lord bless and comfort you. The 
Lord gird you for grander work in His vineyard, 
sanctifying this and all other sorrows to the higher 
good of yourself and of your dear people. 


After these remarks, which were prefaced by 
prayer offered by Rev. J. R. Mills, p.p., of the 
Scovill Avenue M. E. Church, Rev. Anson Smythe, 
D. D., offered prayer, a hymn was sung, the bene- 
diction was pronounced by Rev. H. R. Hoisington 


a 
oa 
A ee. 





Remarks at Her Funeral. 81 


of the North Presbyterian Church, and the large 
concourse of people looked for the last time upon 
' that sweet face, which even death could not rob of 
its loveliness ; on which was that smile of victory 
over death and over everything Sec which she 
had carried in ne life. 


VIII. 


WHAT OTHERS SAID OF HER. 


A husband’s estimate of his wife might, naturally 
enough, be supposed to be colored somewhat by 
his love for her. A member of a family might 
not be considered most fitted to write an impartial 
sketch of another member of the same family. If 
anything said in the preceding pages seems to 
border even upon extravagance, what others said 
of her, when they heard of her death, who were in 
no way connected with her by ties of kindred, and 
who knew her only as the world might know any 
worthy life, surely cannot be charged with any 
show of impartiality. 


I.—WHAT THE PRESS SAID OF HER. 


From the Cleveland Leader, Thursday morning, 
Puly ats 


DEATH OF MRS. BLAKE. 


A gloom has been thrown over the Woodland 
Avenue Presbyterian Church, and over the entire 
community, by the sudden death of the estimable 
wife of Rev. S. L. Blake, the pastor of the church. 
Mrs. Blake has been a resident of this city less than 





Re iim ee a 





What Others Said of Her. 83 


two years, but in that time she has made a multi- 
tude of ardent friends. Her gentle yet earnest 
Christian character, and her winning manners, have 
drawn to her all who have come within the circle 
of her acquaintance. It is not often that a death 
calls out so much genuine sorrow. 

Mrs. Blake died yesterday morning at her resi- 
dence on Case avenue, at which place services will 
be held at 11 o’clock to-day. The burial will take 
place at Pepperell, Mass., her former home, on 
Saturday. As Mr. Blake thus sadly starts on his 
vacation, he will bear with him the sympathy of 
his many friends. 





From the Cleveland Leader, Friday morning, 
August 1: 


THE LAST SAD JOURNEY. 


A large number of friends gathered at the resi- 
dence of Rev. S. L. Blake yesterday, at 11 aA. M., 
to pay the last tribute of respect to a noble Chris- 
tian lady, who was so suddenly taken out of a life 
of useful happiness. The services were short and 
simple. The sympathy of all was deep and touch- 
ing; and all was done that friendly hands could do 
to lighten some portion of the heavy load so sud- 
denly laid upon a beloved pastor and respected 
man. ‘The body was removed to the depot, and. 
taken toward its long resting-place in the old Mas- 
sachusetts home. 





From the Cleveland Herald, Thursday morning, 
July 31: 
DEATH OF MRS. BLAKE. 


We record with sorrow and sympathy the death 


84 Annals of a Beautiful Life. 


of the very excellent wife of Rev. S. L. Blake, pas- 
tor of the Woodland Avenue Presbyterian Church 
of this city. In the somewhat brief period that 
this lady has been known to the people of Cleve- 
land, she has drawn around her a host of friends, 
not only in the church of which her husband is 
pastor, but wherever she has made acquaintance. 
A lady of rare sweetness and gentleness of charac- 
ter, she had greatly endeared herself to her people, 
both old and young. To her husband we tender 
our sympathy in this hour of his trouble. The 
funeral services will be held at the parsonage, No. 
664 Case avenue, Thursday, at 11 o’clock A. M. 
Mr. Blake will start in the afternoon with her re- 
mains for Pepperell, Mass., her old home, where 
the burial will take place next Saturday. 





From the Cleveland Herald, Friday morning, 
August 1: 


DUST TO DUST.—FUNERAL SERVICES OVER THE 
REMAINS OF THE LATE MRS. BLAKE. 


The funeral services of the late Mrs. Isabel L. 
Blake, wife of the Rev. S. L. Blake, pastor of the 
Woodland Avenue Presbyterian Church, were held 
at the family residence, No. 664 Case avenue, on 
Thursday. From necessity the exercises occurred 
at 11 o’clock in the morning, as the remains were 
to be interred at Pepperell, Mass., the old home of 
the deceased, and it was needful that they be sent 
on the afternoon train. The remains were accom- 
panied by Mr. Blake and two elders of the church, 
Messrs. H. M. James and J. A. Seaton. The ser- 
vices were conducted by the Rev. J. E. Twitchell, 











What Others Said of Fer. 85 


assisted by the Revs. J. M. Mills, Anson Smythe, | 
and H. R. Hoisington. The singing was led by 
Mr. Alfred Arthur, who was assisted by Misses T. 
Fuller and S. Seelye, Mrs. B.S. Barrett, S. Rogers, 
Miss J. Whittemore, and Messrs. N. D. Pratt, D. 
E. Wright, and F. M. Sanderson. After singing, 
and a short prayer by Rev. Mr. Mills, the Rev. Mr. 
Twitchell read a few passages of scripture appro- 
priate to the occasion, and spoke at some length. 
He was followed in prayer by the Rev. Anson 
Smythe, after which the choir again sang, and the 
benediction was pronounced by the Rev. H. R. 
Hoisington. At the+conclusion of the services 
all were given an opportunity to view the remains, 
which had been placed in an elegant metallic cas- 
ket. The flowers that had been provided for the 
occasion were profuse and elegant, two designs 
having been presented by the church and Sabbath- 
school. The pall-bearers were J. A. Seaton, H.- 
M. James, J. T. Sencebaugh, John Buchan, William 
Taylor, and J. J. Davis. 

‘Mrs. Blake’s death was quite unexpected, she 
having been seriously ill but a few days; in fact, 
she was not considered in danger until the day be- 


_ fore her death. She made many friends while here, 


who feel her loss keenly. 





From Zhe Congregationalist (Boston, Mass.) 
of August 6: 


The many friends of Rev. S. L. Blake, pastor 
of the Woodland Avenue Presbyterian Church in 
Cleveland, will regret to learn of the death of his 
wife, who by her sweetness and gentleness of char- 
acter had greatly endeared herself to her people, 


7 


86 Annals of a Beautiful Life. 


and to a large circle of friends outside his church. 
After the funeral services at Mr. Blake’s residence, 
July 31, the body was taken east, to Pepperell, 
Mass., Mrs. Blake’s former home, where it was 
interred August 2. 


—_—_— 


Letter of Rev. Anson Smythe, p. p., in the V. 
Y. Evangelist of August 7: 


This afternoon my dear brother Blake will leave 
on his vacation, accompanied by a committee of 
his church, bearing with thém the remains of Mrs. 
Blake, who yesterday passed into the heavens. 

Mrs. Blake was a native of Pepperell, Mass., 
where her husband had his first settlement in the 
ministry. Less than two years ago Mr. Blake 
was called from Concord, N. H., to take charge of 
our Woodland Avenue Church, in which position 
his labors have been remarkably blessed. Mrs. 
Blake very soon secured the confidence and affec- 
tion of all whose acquaintance she made. She 
was a lady of rare natural gifts and high culture. 
To an unusually pleasing presence, to social quali- 


ties which rendered her society attractive, and to . 


a mind thoroughly disciplined, she added deep 
consecration of heart to the service of the Master. 
It seemed to us that she could not be spared from 
her walks in life; but God’s thoughts were not like 
ours, and at the age of thirty-two years she left us 
for the better land. Her funeral services were 
attended this morning, and were conducted by the 
Rev. Dr. Twitchell, assisted by your correspondent. 
A multitude of people manifested a sense of deep 
personal loss, and while life remains not one of us 





% 
| 





What Others Said of Her. 87 


all will forget the beautiful and saintly lady that 


the Lord gave and has taken from us. 


The sympathies of thousands will follow Mr. 
Blake during the weeks of his absence, and when 


- he shall return we shall not cease to remember his 
- bereavement, for we are all bereaved. 





From the Boston (Mass.) Dazly Fournal: 


The death of Mrs. Isabel Lawrence Blake, a 
lovely and excellent woman, caused the deepest 
sorrow to the hearts of all who knew her. She 
was the wife of Rev. S. L. Blake, who was for 
several years pastor of the South Church in Con- 
cord, N. H., but is now located in Cleveland, Ohio. 
Mrs. Blake was eminently fitted by nature and by 
goodness for her place in life, and with intellectual 
ability she united the purest and most beautiful 
graces of Christian character. Before marriage 
she was Miss Lawrence, of Pepperell, Mass., 
where her remains were taken for burial. Though 
death has claimed her, yet the fragrance of her 
pure life will long linger in the hearts of all who 
had been associated with her. 





From the Concord (N. H.) Dazly Monitor of 
Monday, August 4: ; 


DEATH OF MRS. S. L. BLAKE. 


The blow that fell upon this: community on 
Wednesday, July 30, on learning of the sudden 
death of Mrs. Isabel Lawrence Blake, at Cleve- 
land, Ohio, was one of great severity to all who 
knew and loved her, and from which they will not 
soon recover. During the six years of her life 


88 Annals of a Beautiful Life. | 


which were passed in this city, she won her way 


into every heart by her unvarying gentleness ; and 


she has left behind her the tenderest of memories, 
unmixed with anything which can cause pain, ex- 


cept the shadow which comes over us as we realize — 


that we shall see her face no more till we “ meet 
beyond the river,” where partings are unknown. 
She was eminently fitted by nature and by grace 
for her place in life, and in her were united 
strength of mind, with sweetness, rare intellectual 


culture, and an earnest Christian character. The ~ 
longest lives are not always measured by the great- | 


est number of years; and though so early called, 


though her friends would so gladly have detained 
her here, yet her work was finished, and she was 


needed in the heavenly home. 


Services were held on Thursday morning at her 
late residence in Cleveland, conducted by Rev. Dr. . 
Twitchell, at which friends filled the house to — 


overflowing, and loving tribute was paid to her 
memory. ‘The loved remains were then taken to 
her former home in Pepperell, Mass., where friends 
from far and near were gathered, not to welcome 
her, as they had fondly hoped, but to mourn her 
early death, and bear her to the portals of the Si- 
lent Land. The services were brief and interest- 
ing, conducted by the pastor of the church in Pep- 
perell. Suitable remarks were added by an officer 
of the church in Cleveland, and a member of the 
South Church in this city. Many friends from 
Concord were present with tributes of flowers, 
and nothing was omitted which could impart com- 
fort on so mournful an occasion. The fragrance 
of such a life will remain, and its memory be 
measured only by eternity. 








L 
‘ 
Lf sa 
a. 
1 
ha 
aA 
* 





What Others Satd of Her. 89 


From the Herald Presbyter (Cincinnati, O.) 
of September 24: 


We regret to learn that Rev. S. L. Blake, pastor 
of the Woodland Avenue Presbyterian Church, 
Cleveland, Ohio, suffered the loss of his wife during 
the last week of July. She was a woman of rare 
qualities, having been converted at the age of four- 
teen years, and grew up developing a beautiful 
Christian character; and although she had been 
in Cleveland but a brief period, she was beloved 
by all, and will be greatly missed in the church. 





At the meeting of the pastors of Cleveland, held 
in the chapel of the Y. M. C. A., on Monday morn- 
ing, September 15, 1879, the following preamble 
and resolutions, presented by Rev. Anson Smythe, 
D. D.,and seconded by the Rev. James R. Mills, 
D. D., Were unanimously adopted : 


Whereas, since our last meeting, it has pleased 
God to take to her heavenly home the beloved wife 
of our dear brother, Rev. S. Leroy Blake, pastor of 
the Woodland Avenue Presbyterian Church,— 


resolved, ‘That we lament her early death, and 
shall bear in lasting memory her high and beauti- 
ful qualities as a Christian woman, and the dignity, 
grace, and fidelity with which she discharged the 
appropriate duties of a pastor’s wife. 

ftesolved, That we assure our bereaved Brother 
Blake of our condolence and sympathy in his deep 
affliction, and we pledge him our prayers that God 
may sustain him in this time of sorrow, and cause 


90 Annals of a Beautiful Life. 


his great loss to contribute to his spiritual welfare 
and ministerial usefulness. 


O. D. Patcu, Moderator. 
O. D. FisHEer, Secretary. 


2.—WHAT FRIENDS SAID OF HER IN LETTERS OF COM- 
FORT AND CONDOLENCE, WHICH WERE RECEIVED AFTER 
HER DEATH. 


It is fitting that they should speak first who 
knew her longest as a pastor’s wife. The following 
letters and extracts from letters from friends in 
Concord only voice the universal feeling of regard 
for her, and the deep sorrow which the news of 
‘ her death caused. This feeling was not confined 
to those who were her church friends, but all who 
knew her shared it, without respect to creed or 
station. Even those who might naturally be sup- 
posed to be least affected, expressed their sorrow 
in the most emphatic and sympathizing way. Said 
a lady, If I could be remembered as Mrs. Blake is, 
I should be satisfied. 


Concorp, N. H., July 31, 1879. 

Dear Mr. Blake :—Your telegram, which came 
to hand at 125 p.m. yesterday, has caused a shock 
to this whole city that no such news has ever cre- 
ated before. It seemed to me, as I read the message 
over and over again, that there wzwst de some mis- 
take; and as I went out to carry the sad news to 
some that loved the dear woman as their own 
selves, I seemed to be in a sort of maze. 

But, my dear sir, I dare not write to you a single 








What Others Said of Fer. Ol 


word: no one can describe the sympathy which 
is expressed for yourself, nor the sorrow which is 
in every heart. It seems as though all had lost 
their dearest friend. For myself and family, no 
one outside was dearer. 

As you are aware, Mrs. H. and myself know 
something of sudden bereavement, but zothzng of 
yours. We have only to remind you that the 
beloved Master once prayed that the bitter cup, 
which He was called to partake, might pass from 
Him. But he said, ‘‘ Nevertheless not my will, but 
Thine, be done.” And then we are told that angels 
came and ministered unto Him; and I know that 


none but the loving Father’s messengers can min- 


ister to you. 
Yours, with all my heart’s sympathy, 
Cc. W. H. 
The above is from the family with whom we 
made our first home in Concord, on beginning our 
married life there. Following are letters and ex- 
tracts from letters from a few of the young ladies, 
which speak the universal testimony. If here were 
to be added extracts from letters received in her 
lifetime from the same writers, and many more, 
a deeper meaning would be given to their ex- 
pressions of the sorrow which her death caused. 


Concorp, N. H., Aug. 1, 1879. 
My Dear Mr. Blake:—\ can’t find words to 


express my feelings for you, in this your great 
trouble. It seems alla dream to me. I can’t rea- 
lize anything about it. It runs through my mind 
all the time,—‘‘ She was ready, she. was ready.” 


92 Annals of a Beautiful Life. 


It is a great sorrow to me not to be able to see her 
dear face once more here on earth; but my friends 
have convinced me that itis not right for me to go 
to Pepperell at this time. Be sure my thoughts 
will be with you all the day long, and I pray God 
will give you the comfort no earthly friend can. 
Your friend,’ 
L. W. M. 


This is the lady of whom another wrote to Isa- 


bel, soon after our leaving Concord,—* It is harder — 


for L M to. be reconciled than any one I 
know of. Itis only since you went away that I 
have realized how much she saw you, and depend- 
ed on you for enjoyment every day.” 

The following is from one of the family in which 
I found a home before she came to be part of my 
life : 








Concorp, N. H., Aug. 2, 1879. 


My Dear Mr. Blake :—Never were we more 
saddened at the death of any one outside our own 
family circle than at the death of your own dear 
wife ; and she seemed like one of us, so dear was 
she to us all. 

I could scarcely believe Dea. H.’s words when 
he called at the door the other day and told me of 
her death, and I can scarcely realize that she, 
whom I, and all of us, loved so much, is no more. 
* *  * You can scarcely conceive of the sym- 
pathy that has been going out towards you from 
your old people here, and from many that were 
not of them. In prayer-meeting, last evening, Mr. 
S. had charge, and read that chapter on fruit- 








What Others Satd of Her. 93 


_ bearing, alluding to the verse, “So shall ye be my 


disciples.” That is, fruit-bearing is an evidence of 
discipleship. And then, with deepest feeling, he 
alluded to the lovely life of Mrs. Blake, as one so 
fruithful of loving deeds and words, and, in its 
sweetness and humility, such an evidence of that 
true spirit of piety which Christ would have us all 
cultivate, if we would be really and truly His. As 
he spoke, the hearts of all were stirred, and many 
were the tears that fell, as the thought of her, who 
was once of us, came back to us so cles 
With deepest sympathy, 
Lin ViLPe 

Another of this circle of young ladies wrote,— 
«It is a privilege to have been one of her friends. 
Iam sure I feel like joining in your prayers that 
her sweet influence may not be lost upon us. 
Heaven does seem nearer as those that we love 
are gathered there.” A week later, the same pen 
wrote,—“ I always loved her from the first moment 
I saw her. I do not believe there is any one out- 
side her own family who feels her death as much as 
I do.” This young lady was with us during part 
of those last weeks. 

The following, from still another, like the rest, 
tells its own tale of sorrow and love: 


ConcorD, Aug. 19, 1879. 
My Dear Mr. Blake:—Al\ this past week, 
since I came from the country, I have felt that I 
must write just.a few words to you, and yet I have 
hesitated to break in upon your sorrow, even by a 


94 Annals of a Beautiful Life. 


letter of sympathy. If*you could know all the 
tender things people here have said and thought of 
you, I am sure it would be as comforting to you as 
any earthly consolation could be. My heart is so 
full of dear Mrs. Blake, that when I try to make 
any expression of it, words seem utterly to fail me. 
But I thank God many times every day that I have 
the blessing of her precious memory. She was so 
gracious and winning in all her ways, so sympa- 
thetic and lovable, that she was and is an inspira- 
tion to me. I shall never forget the one happy, 
quiet day that I spent with her four years ago, in 
her own home; and I have been thinking a great 
deal, in these past three weeks, how, in all your 
grief at having her away from you, you must re- 
joice in the blessed eight years you were allowed 
to spend together. 

She wrote me the sweetest, kindest letter last 
winter,* and now I feel that I have a little of her- 
self that is all my oy and it is a very dear pos- 
session. * ni 

It is very easy for me to conceive of dear Mrs. 
Blake as at home in heaven, she seemed so fitted 
‘for an abundant entrance there while she was with 
us; and I can hardly think what there was of the 
earthly about her that would have to be put off. 
A hundred times I am sure I must have said, 
that she was, to me, the nearest to perfection of 
any woman I ever knew. But I must not go on 
with the many things that are continually in my 
thought of her. 

I am sure you know that you have our most 
earnest prayers that you may be sustained by the 


——— 





* See page 41. 








What Others Said of Her. 95 


only power that can sustain, and that when flesh 
and blood cry out for flesh and blood, you may re- 
ceive only the greater spiritual blessing. * * 
With warmest sympathy and love from both 
A and myself, I am 
Your sincere friend, 





My Paew. 


The following letter was from a lady who, as 
the letter intimates, was herself on a bed of sick- 
ness, and looking forward to the time as possibly 
not far off when she, too, would be called home: 


ConcorpD, Aug. 2, 1879. 


Dear Mr. Blake :—Lying here upon my couch, 
hardly able to walk across my room alone, my 
heart aches for you in your great, deep sorrow, 
which is a sorrow to us all. The tears will not be 
repressed, and my eyes are dim with them as I 
write, when I think I shall never see dear Mrs. 
Blake again upon earth. I think, though, it may 
not be long before I shall meet her ‘‘ just across the 
river.” I always thought her like a lily, grown 
up tall and slender, and crowned with a bloom of 
purity and sweetness. I was just speaking to a 
friend of her loveliness, when the sad, sad tidings 
of her death came to me. I was grief-stricken, | 
and thought it must be a mistake — that it could 
not be so. 

God never makes mistakes, and what seems a 
mysterious providence to us must be right, because 
He has done it. Now she blooms in the garden 
above; now she is more than ever angelic. 


‘* None knew her but to love her, 
None named her but to praise.” 


96 ‘Annals of a Beautiful Life. 


I shall never forget her sweet face, and her pleas- 
ant smile, and her gentleness. I shall gaze often 
at her picture, and I hope that before I depart to 
go hence and be here no more forever, I may grow 
to be more and more like her in Christian life and 
charactegr iin, ae 

Your sympathizing and sincere friend, 
S. W. S. 


One of the young men writes,—‘* The news 
throws a gloom over hosts of friends, who had > 
learned to love and admire Mrs. Blake’s rare qual- 
ities of character ;—a true Christian, everybody's 
friend.” 

The following letter is from Mrs. B. P. Stone, 
whose husband was for a long time one of the 
prominent clergymen of New Hampshire, and who 
was himself also, on his mother’s side, a descend- 
ant of the family of John Lawrence. The prayer- 
meeting alluded to was the Ladies’ prayer-meeting, 
at which Isabel was usually present, and which 
she often led. Mrs. Stone writes, under date of 
August 1, 1879,— 

Dear Str: I shall not attempt to assuage your 
grief under the heavy affliction. The heart must 
bleed. ‘‘ Jesus wept. 1b Bata pleasant memory of 
your dear wife came to me very soon. At one of 
the little prayer-meetings at my house, the subject 
under consideration was the necessity of affliction, 
and how surely our Heavenly Father will send the 
needed discipline. We were all so much older 
than Mrs. Blake, that I presume our views were 
somewhat more sombre than hers. She was deeply 








What Others Said of Her 97 


interested, even to tears; and she asked, ‘“‘ Why 
should not the goodness of God lead us to the at- 
tainment of right character without the need of 
severity?’ We comforted her at once, and told © 
her that in her case at least, for years very likely, 
she might be led by the gentle hand of the Savior 
‘into green pastures and beside the still waters.” 
And now it is so clear that her discipline is all 
over.’ Very gently has she been led her life long ; 
and now in the heavenly mansions she will work 
and wait till you come. 

I had a beautiful little dream about her. I 
thought she had been sick, nigh unto death. I 
called to see her, not knowing that I could, but she 
signified that she would like to see me. As I en- 
tered the room, she put out her hand, and gave me 
so sweet a smile, that it lingers in my memory yet. 
And I doubt not that in the bright hereafter I shall 
realize more that the dream. Oh! the dead are 
alive and happy, and very full of the sweet service 
of the Redeemer. 

May the dear Lord sustain you. 

Rey. F. D. Ayer, of the North Church in Con- 
cord, wrote,— 

There were very few who held a deeper, quieter 
love for your dear wife than did the true heart 
that still brightens my home. M so often 
used to say, ‘‘O that I could see Mrs. Blake for 
a while!” and we had talked, and tried to plan 
so that should you be at Concord we might be at 
home. ‘There were few of her own kin whom 
M oftener spoke of than of Mrs. Blake. * * 
You know how the children loved her, whom all 
loved who knew her. How many there are to 








98 Annals of a Beautiful Life. 


whom the tidings were sad indeed. But, dear 
brother, how much heavier the blow to the home 
whose light has gone out, and in which the hope 
of years to come is crushed! Be assured, in the 
love of many hearts you have also the prayers of 
hundreds united, that the faith fail not, and that 
the eye be clear to look beyond the clouds. How 
strange these broken plans, these half finished (as 
it seems to us) lives! We shall see the other side 
by and by, and my prayer shall be that you and all 
of us may live the more under that thought, and 
that, though sad and in sorrow, we may yet be in 
precious hope and anticipation. 


These letters show how hard it was, for those 


who had known and loved her in Concord, to give 
her up; how they dwelt upon her memory and 
cherished thoughts of her; how constantly her 
name was upon their tongues, as a dear household 


word; how they waited almost impatiently, and | 


looked forward eagerly, for the time when they 
might possibly have a brief space in which to en- 
joy her sweet presence. ‘They depended on seeing 
her in Concord every summer, and got a willing 
promise from her that she would gratify their wish. 
I believe the people in Concord would almost 
have laid down their lives for her, they loved her 
so much. It cannot be wondered that she was 
_ happy in such love, and that it cost her a great 
struggle to break away from it. . 


Rev. J. F. Lovering, who was pastor of the 











What Others Said of Her. 99 


Unitarian Church in Concord during a portion of 
our life there, writes from Watertown, Mass. : 


My Dear Mr. Blake :—WLast Friday I received 
a copy of the Concord (N. H.) Statesman, in 
which reference was made to the sad bereavement 
which has befallen you under God’s providence. 
* * j%* I beg you will let me send just a few | 
lines, simply to tell you how much I sympathize 
with you in your sorrow. 

I recall so vividly the sweet womanliness and 
graceful courtesy of your wife. I remember her 
ready sympathy with those who came into ordi- 
_nary social contact with her. I remember how 
eager she was to be your helpmate indeed, not in 
the beautiful and blooming home-life you enjoyed, 
but in your church relations. I remember so 
many trivial instances of your careful considera- 
tion for her,—so trivial that you have forgot them, 
but which indicated so much to others,—that I can 
somewhat understand how heavy your affliction 
EG Wc SM al 

The Lord bless you. The Lord lift upon you 
the light of His countenance. The Lord be with 
you day and night, with the love that passeth all 
understanding. 


A little later, the same brother wrote,— 


Do you remember delivering a lecture in Eagle 
hall, at Concord, on Hugh Miller? At the close 
of your lecture I met your wife for the first time. 
There was sunshine in her smile. The glow of it 
has lasted all through the years since; and as I 
thought of you in your sorrow, and tried to under- 
stand in some poor way how great your loss must 


100 Annals of a Beautiful Life, 


_ be, I recalled that evening, and saw again the face — 
that has smiled into your life wie such sweet and » 


tender love. 


The next letter is from a lady who was once a 
member of the South Church in Concord, whose _ 


‘life was suddenly made desolate by the death of a 
fond and devoted husband, and to whom Isabel en- 
deared herself very much by her sweet sympathy. 


Newton, Mass., Sept. 14, 1879. 


My Kind Pastor: —'The sad news has just . 


reached me, and I am shocked—too much so to | } 


write you anything that can comfort you in such . 


loneliness. Such a sweet, pure, and gentle life has 


left behind it so many that mourn with you, who was . 


her dearest and loving companion. Your grief is 
too sacred to be intruded upon, but I want to send 


you the sympathy that comes from a heart wound- - 


ed as yours has been, while I mourn for her who 
was so tender and kind to me in the years of per- 
fect desolation. Can it be I shall never see her 


beautiful face again, and the last word of advice . 


from her sweet lips has been said to me? 


She promised last year she would visit me this, 
and it was but lately I wondered how soon her 
letter would reach me, telling me when to look for 
her. But no. The happy drive last year was the 
last sweet time, with your beautiful wife, for me. 
I hope some time to meet her in God’s beautiful 
home above, where she is a lovely angel. Are 
they all as pure? * 4 


Would that this could comfort you; but Words 





What Others Said of Her. IOI 


are useless at such a time. My tears mingle with 
these words, and I cazzot realize zt. 
Accept much sympathy from your friend, 
A. Ba W. 


The following letters from friends in Cleveland 
show how deep a hold she had got upon the hearts 
of the people during her brief, unselfish life in their 
midst. A young lady writes,— 


I do not know how to express my sympathy for 
you in your loss, for I cannot understand what it 
would be to lose such an earthly and dear friend ; 
but I wanted you to know how much I loved her. 


Another writes,— 


Her death was a shock to the church and whole 
community. All loved her for her gentleness, and 
for her pure, lovely, Christian character. We shall 
ever remember her many virtues, and never cease 
to emulate her noble example. 


Still another writes,— 


Your wife had won a warm place in the hearts 
of the people here by her beautiful character. She 
was one among a thousand. Rarely have I met 
one who was in every way so qualified in head 
and heart for the place she so well filled. We all 
mourn with you. We feel as if we had all suffered 
a great loss. 


Another pays this tribute to her worthy memory : 


A great many people here sympathize with you 
in the loss of Mrs. Blake. I have never seen Mrs. 
J mourn so sincerely before. We talk of her 


8 





102 Annals of a Beautiful Life. 


more than anything else. I did not know how 
much we all loved her. And we are not alone. 
It is the common theme in the church, and the sor- 
row is deep and genuine. 


At another time the same writes,— 


All express so much sorrow for what, far more 
than I expected, is regarded as our common loss, 


As showing that her life and death have already 
borne fruit here, the same person writes,— 


OnureG , in her reserved way, has been pon- 
dering for a long time, I find, the question of her 
duty in the matter of presenting herself to the 
session. She has somehow associated Mrs. Blake’s 
death with her duty, and of her own accord has 
introduced the subject to her mother and me. 





The same writes in the Woodland Recorder, of 
December 13,—a paper published by the Wood- 


land Avenue Church,— 


No event in the history of the Woodland Avenue 
Church has ever called out so tender a sorrow as 
the death of this beloved woman. She had not 
lived long in our midst, and her health was such 
that she had not made a wide acquaintance; but 
we shall not soon forget what a gloom overspread 
the entire community on that July morning, when 
the sad tidings were announced that her spirit had 
passed away. Not only those who had come to 
know her intimately, but those who were only 
slightly acquainted with her, even outside of our 
own congregation, seemed to feel that to some ex- 
tent this was their own personal loss. 








What Others Said of Her. 103 


Mrs. Blake was, indeed, a woman of rare excel- 
lence of mind and character. The keenness of 
her insight, the accuracy of her judgment, and the 
delicacy of her appreciation, were of rare quality ; 
but in sweetness and gentleness of soul, sympathy 
with those in trouble, and in piety that knew no 
limit in its devotion, her equal is seldom seen. 
Her faculty for making friends was truly wonder- 
ful. In Concord, as in Cleveland, as well as in her 
early home in Pepperell, her friends were always 
far more numerous than her acquaintances. Every- 
body loved her; and no wonder, for she loved 
everybody. At her death three parishes were in 
mourning. Though a person of strong and decided 
convictions, she was so charitable and considerate 
of others that she was never known to censure any 
one. Even when she felt that her dearest interests 
had been violated (and such an organization as 
hers could feek an injustice most keenly), through 
her tears she never failed to offer an excuse ora 
word of apology for those who had caused her 
pain. 

To her the religion of Jesus Christ was all in all. 
To very few persons are spiritual things so much 
a reality as they were to her. Her Savior was as 
much a real presence as were her earthly friends ; 
heaven as much a real existence as her Concord 
home; and she looked forward to the future life as 
she did to any other event, the realization of which 
might come verysoon. One of her favorite hymns 
was that beginning,— 


‘**] know not the hour when my Lord shall come 
To take me away to His own dear home; 
But I know that His presence will lighten the gloom, 
And that will be glory for me.” 


104 Annals of a Beautiful Life. 


To any who ever heard her sing this hymn with so 
much feeling, it must always seem especially sa- 
cred. It expressed her sincerest thought. 

Aside from the trial of parting from friends, 
death had no terror to her; indeed, she looked for- 
ward to it as a joyful occasion. Her departure 
was as serene and beautiful as her life. In her last 
moments she seemed to have a glimpse of the glo- 
ries of the other side. After an interval of seem- 
ingly partial unconsciousness, her countenance 
lighted up as with an ineffable joy, as she whis- 
pered,—“ Oh, beautiful! beautiful!” With these 
words she passed into the beautiful city, into the 
company of the heavenly choir of redeemed ones 
that sing around the throne, into the presence of 
that dear Lord whom she knew and loved so well. 

Mrs. Blake’s life was not a long one, if we count 
by years; but few lives have accomplished more. 
Her death is unquestionably the gfeatest loss this 
church has ever had to mourn. Her influence can 
never be lost, and her memory will be cherished 
among us as long as any of us shall live. 


Another writes,— 


The blessed promises of Him who gave, and 
has taken away, are all yours, together with the 


assurance, He doeth all things well, and that what 


you know not now, you shall know hereafter. 
You shall know why the dear face you loved so 
well has faded from mortal vision, why the gentle 
voice is hushed, and the kind hands are folded in 


unbroken rest. Even in the darkness which now 


overshadows you, you will discern that life has 
other kinds of completeness besides length of days, 
and that there are lives. so rounded and crowned 








What Others Said of Her. 105 


by their completed deeds of love, that death seems 
to have appeared in the fulness of their prime, 
only to consecrate them forever. 

When we were travelling in 1876, we had letters 
of introduction to a Liverpool merchant, who in- 
vited us to dine with himself and family, and who 
showed us such true hospitality that Isabel never 
ceased to speak of it. That English family made 
a lasting and delightful impression upon her. The 
gentleman, writing to one of the Se Uy after her 
death, says,— | 

I so well remember Mrs. Blake, and although 
she and her husband spent but a few hours at our 
home, she left a very marked impression upon us 
all, and my wife has often spoken of the visit of 
“that most delightful American lady.” Iam sure 
that by those Who knew her she must have been 
very dearly loved.” 

Who, after all, is better competent to speak of 
her than one who knew her all her life? So I add 
here the words of the oldest sister: ‘I love to 
think of her. Her life is a big history to me. I 
- am trying to study it to make my own better. She 
was so loving, so gentle, so good. I never did 
hear any one spoken of so much, every one ex- 
pressing the same beautiful things about her. We 
know it all. But best of all, she was such a true, 
faithful Christian.” Another of the sisters writes,— 
‘Tt seems as if she grew nearer and dearer to me 
each day.” Another of them writes,—‘‘It seems 


106 Annals of a Beautiful Life. 


so strange to think that dear Isabel is to be with us 
no more. I trust the spirit of meekness and gentle- 
-ness which she always manifested will descend 
upon us. Her memory will always be sweet and 
precious.” 


The only other letter I will add is from Prof. 
Mead, of Oberlin, written from Andover, Mass., 
August 9, 1879: 


My Dear L.:—I cannot tell you how much we 
were shocked and saddened by the intelligence in 
this week’s Congregationalist. I cannot say a 
word that will help you bear this heavy burden, 
but I must assure you of my deep sympathy, and 
must speak my very high appreciation and admira- 
tion of your beautiful wife, even though the more 
you are reminded of this, the more are you made 
to feel the irreparable loss which you sustain in 
parting with her. ‘There was in her such delicacy 
of feeling, such purity and loftiness of motive, such 
sweetness combined with courage, such affection- 
ateness combined with force of will! It seemed to 
us that you had in her just such a wife as you 
wanted, and that she was to you the greatest bless- 
ing God could grant. No doubt such she has been, 
and in the memory of the years of blessed compan- 
ionship, such‘she will still be. God comfort you, 
dear L ,in your loneliness! This is all I can 
say! My wife joins in tenderest sympathy, and 
mourns the loss of one whom she valued as one 
of her best friends. 

Ever yours faithfully, 





H. MEAp. 





What Others Said of Fer. 107 


If all that has been said to me in praise of her 
lovely character could be added, the testimony to 
her worth, from every quarter, would swell to a 
volume. It does not seem that more could be said 
of a woman than has been said of her, and it does 
not seem that a death could create a wider ora 
profounder impression. The spontaneity of all 
this testimony gives it peculiar force. It is simply 
the outgushing of hearts which speak what they | 
feel, and because they feel. The secret of it all is 
found in her unaffected purity of soul, her integrity 
of purpose, and her self-forgetful sympathy. Surely 
the testimony of these notices and of these letters 
must relieve the husband and friends of all partial- 
ity in their estimate of her loveliness. For if there - 
is any extravagance of language, it is to be found 
in these expressions of love from those who were 
bound to her only by ties of unfeigned admiration 
for her sterling qualities of mind and heart. 


IX. 


CONCLUSION.’ 


This is the simple story of her life. It is like a 
sweet song singing itself. As another said, who 
wrote a like memorial,—‘* Often have I turned 
aside from my work to brush away the falling 
tears, and to calm the feelings that have choked 
my utterance even with the pen.” Our sore hearts 
have often asked, Why was this? Why could she 
not have been spared to the life of usefulness which 
seemed to stretch invitingly before her?—to her 
friends, who seemed to need her so much, and who 
loved her so fondly? Why were the hands, which 
would have kept her here a little longer, so bereft 
of all power? I have ceased to ask such questions, 
for no answer comes back. Bryant wrote,— 


‘¢ Loveliest of lovely things are they 
On earth that soonest pass away. 
The rose that lives its little hour 
Is prized beyond the sculptured flower.” 


Another poet wrote,— 


‘¢ Death loves a shining mark, a signal blow.” 


ie iBy 








Conclusion. 109 


Certainly this mark was shining, and the blow was 
signal. But still the unanswered question, Why? 

One of the most fathomless mysteries is the mys- 
tery of sorrow. Buds of promise are plucked, and 
blighted fruit is left to hang uselessly on withered 
branches. We cannot understand this way of 
doing. Only a faith which can say, ‘‘ Though He 
slay me, yet will I trust Him,” can wait to know 
God’s reasons. Doubtless in this, as in all else, 
His ways are not as our ways. Doubtless such 
sorrow, as Charles Kingsley said, when waiting on 
what proved to be his own dying bed, for the daily 
expected death of his wife,—‘‘It must be right; 
for it is so strange, and yet so painful.” Doubtless, 
as Prof. Phelps, of Andover, says,—‘* The very 
mysteriousness of inexplicable trial is a token of 
the Divine wisdom from which it comes. No 
other mind could contrive trial so profound.” But, 
admitting all this, we come back at last to our 
starting-point without answer to our question. 
God sometimes seems prodigal of the lives he has 
trained for best service, and to act on an unequal 
principle. 

But there may be another side for us. It is not 
improbable that, at thirty, some have done more 
than others who live to three-score years and ten. 
So their work is sooner done, and they are sooner 
ready to be called in from the toilsome fields. Pos- 
sibly those who die early are the best scholars in 


9 


110 Annals of a Beautiful Life. 


Divine grace, and are soonest ready for promotion. 
The history of Christian experience is not without 
what may be called precociousness of character. 
We have seen young Christians who had the zeal 
and consecration of age. McCheyne did not live 
to be an old man. Yet few who reach three-score 
years and ten do as much for the Master as did 
this eloquent preacher, who was cut off in mid- 
summer. Frederick W. Robertson died at the 
early age of thirty-six. The ten short years of his 
ministry were packed with results. No public life 
was ever shorter than Christ’s; no public life was 
ever fuller of results. 

The whole secret of what we call prematureness 
of Christian character, is simply intense consecra- 
tion. We measure life by years; but this does not 
tell half the truth. The true measurement of life 
is results. Isabel had but eight years of public 
womanhood. But somehow she has left a stamp 
which time will not erase. The years of her life 
were fruitful for eternity. 

It may be that some die early, Beceueh they need 
less discipline than others to fit them for the great 
change. They may have been faithful over the 
few things committed to their charge, and were 
sooner ready than the rest of us to enter into the 
joy of their Lord. I do not mean that they had 
less capacity to do, but that for some reason God 
did not see it necessary to put so much upon them. 





Conclusion. III 


Delicate} sensitive natures do not need the rough- 
and-tumble of life to develop their Christian 
graces. ‘They become sanctified without. And so 
He who would not break the bruised reed, nor 
quench the smoking: en spares them such severe 
discipline. 

It may also be true, that those who are called 
early to come up higher develop some striking fit- 
ness for work which God may require to have done 
in His kingdom above. He may have some special 
service waiting for them. So it may be that a life 
~which seemed cut short in its usefulness is work- © 
ing on in a sphere of whose importance we may 
have noconception. The time, talents, energies, 
preparation, which seem wasted, may not have 
been intended, in God’s plan, for long service in 
this scene of conflicts. He may have meant all 
the time, by this disciplinary training, some em- 
ployment in the other world. So what may seem 
to us a prodigal waste, is but utilizing the forces 
He had been preparing. 

The view of the Bible is, that God honors those 
whom He calls to help swell the throng around the 
throne. Although the flesh bleeds when it is 
wounded, and the sorrow-riven heart cannot keep 
back its anguish, yet if we could see as God sees, 
I have no doubt we should see that it is a more 
momentous thing to live, than, for one who is 
ready, to die. For His word says, ‘‘ Blessed are 


rie Annals of a Beautiful Life. 


the dead who die in the Lord.” It takes a master- 
ful faith to compass this sublime thought. We are 
not accustomed to hold this view,—that death is, or 
can be, a blessing; that the early death of the 
righteous is a signal mark of Divine favor,—be- 
cause we look from the stand-point of the living— 
of personal sorrow. But if we could understand 
this, ‘‘that they may rest from their labors,” I 
think the whole point of view would be changed, 
and we should be able to see what blessings the re- 
deemed enter upon when they die. By and by we 
shall be able to see it so. J think she did, with 
that peculiarly clear vision of faith which was 
given her in those last days. For she said,— 
‘¢ Death does not seem dreadful to me. I think I 
could hear of the death of any of my friends, and 
not shed a tear. Why do we cling to them so, and 
try to keep them here, when it is so much more 
glorious and blessed in heaven?” Ina volume of 
Familiar Quotations I have found this, from Long- 
fellow, marked with her pencil, as if it expressed 
her thought: 


‘¢ There is no Death! What seems so is transition ; 
This life of mortal breath 
Is but the suburb of the life elysian, 
Whose portal we call Death.” 


Perhaps the purposes of God are accomplished, 
in those who are called home in the ruddy flush of 





Conclusion. 113 


young life, before the rude touch of the world has 
been laid upon them, by gentler processes; just as 
the sweetest flowers are often not those which have 
grown rugged under the fierce blasts, but which 
have grown sweet and beautiful by the tender care 
they had in your conservatory. Some natures need 
rough treatment. Others, like the flowers, open 
themselves to the sun-light of God’s love. They 
were not meant for earth. Their feet touch here, 
in their flight to the celestial world, just long 
_ enough to shed God’s benediction, and then hasten 
to obey the Father’s hand which bids them come 
to Him. | 

Another reason why God takes those who seem 
specially ripened for heaven may be to gratify some 
personal desire. I love to think that God enjoys 
the companionship of souls which have His like- 
ness, and that it is a matter of personal gratifica- 
tion to Him to have them near Him. Does not 
this agree with Christ’s promise,—“TI go to prepare 
a place for you; and if I go and prepare a place 
for you, I will come again and receive you unto 
myself, that where I am there ye may be also”? 
Is not the death of those whose lives have fitted 
them for this honor an answer to Christ’s prayer,— 
‘Father, I will that they also whom thou hast. 
given me be with me where I am, that they may 
behold my glory which thou hast given me”? This 
implies a personal desire, on our Savior’s part, 
that those who love Him should be with Him. 


7 14 Annals of a Beautiful Life. 


I love to ‘think, also, that God admires real 
beauty, and therefore takes to Himself some of the 
rarest fruits of His renewing grace before we are 
ready to give them up. He likes jewels as well as 
we, and wants them to set in His diadem of glory. 
‘* And they shall be mine, saith the Lord of hosts, 
in that day when I make up my jewels.” We do 
not select from the bush the rose which has out- 
lived its beauty and its fragrance, and is fast falling 
to decay: we pick the freshest, sweetest, fairest 
flower we can. May not God, in a far higher 
sense than we can, act on such a principle? God 
wants the best, and why should He not have it? 
If our friends are torn from us too soon, we may 
take comfort from the thought that Jesus wanted 
them, and that it was infinite condescension in 
Him to deny Himself so long the pleasure of their 
companionship in the Father’s house, that we 
might have them to ourselves. 

I cannot look behind the curtain which hides the 
purposes of God. But when my heart cries out 
within me, Why could He not have let the light 
of my life shine upon me, with its sweet smiles of 
hope and cheer, a little longer? I take refuge in 
the thought that she was ripe for heaven, and God 
wanted her. I say, as one who for more than 
thirty years has lain on her bed of pain said of her, 
‘¢ She was too ripe for heaven to stay”; and I try 
to be submissive to that deeper, mysterious plan, 





Conclusion. 115 


whose execution has changed and set aside all the 
plans and hopes of my life. 

I have found comfort, also, in the thought, that in 
their death God gives His children an opportunity 
to testify for Christ, such as life could not afford 
them. Trial is the test of faith. Many a child of 
God has come to the hour of death with very little 
philosophy, but a great deal of trust. If you go to 
Quebec, and visit the Plains of Abraham, you will 
be shown the spot where Wolfe fell. You will be 
told that, as he was dying, they brought him the 
news that the French were flying; and that his 
eye lighted for a moment, as he exclaimed,— 
** Now, God be praised! I die happy.” Stand on 
another field of conflict, at the bed-side of the 
young disciple who has overcome, and is about to 
receive the crown of life and enter on the inheri- 
tance of all things. See the light of glory steal 
over the features. See that far-off look in the eye, 
as if it were looking beyond the veil. You have 
beheld a triumph which cannot be won on any 
field of earthly strife. You have seen faith tried 
by its severest test without failing. Men may 
argue as they will, but they cannot argue down 
such testimony. Many a man, witnessing such 
triumph, has exclaimed within himself,—‘* Let me 
die the death of the righteous, and let my last end 
be like his.” The testimony of Isabel’s death to 
the power of faith was such as to strike the tongue 


116 Annals of a Beautiful Life. 


of cavil dumb. No one could have witnessed her 
last hours on earth, and doubted for a moment that 
Christ was present in her heart to sustain her. I 
have felt that, by calling her so triumphantly home, 
God underscored the testimony of her life, and. 
gave it a prominence and force which her quiet, 
retiring nature would have shrunk from. Already 
her life and death have borne fruits. It cannot be 
that the harvest is all gathered. 

Another thought has brought me great comfort. 
It may be that God takes away those whose choice 
virtues and loveliness have bound them to us as 
with cords which cannot be broken, to create in us 
who remain a deeper and more personal interest 
in heaven. I do not think it wrong to say that 
heaven seems nearer and dearer since she has gone 
there. The cord drawing us thither is stronger 
now—stronger than any which bind us to earth. 
Our treasures are multiplying on the other side: 
why should not our heart’s best affections be there 
also? 

Those who have crossed the flood will soon be 
more than those who remain. It will not be long 
before our friends will all be there. The prophets 
and patriarchs, the saints and apostles, the re- 
deemed who have been called home out of every 
nation, and kindred, and people, and tongue,— 
more than all else, our elder brother, Jesus Christ,— 
are there now. What a glorious company this, 





Conclusion. 117 


made doubly attractive to us by the presence of 
that sweet spirit which so long smiled upon our 
lives with its blessed light! Can it be wondered 
that such personal presence, in the Father’s house, 
has such an attractive power to us that we some- 
times feel like Paul, and can hardly wait, having a 
desire to depart and be with Christ, which is far 
better ! : 

I cannot think of her as dead. Her death did 
not seem like dying. It was not. It was entering 
into life. ‘‘ He that believeth in me, though he 
were dead, yet shall he live.” ‘ He that hath the 
Son hath. life.” ‘This is life eternal, that they 
might know thee the only true God, and Jesus 
Christ, whom thou hast sent.” She had that life. 
That life cannot sleep; it cannot die. She is alive, 
and with God. He ‘is not the God of the dead, 
but of the living.” 


‘*Oh! call it not death! ’t is life begun, 
For the waters are passed, and home is won; 
The ransomed spirit has reached the shore 
Where they weep and suffer and sin no more. 


‘¢ She is safe in her Father’s house above, 
In the place prepared by her Savior’s love. 
To depart from the world of sin and strife, 
And to be with Jesus—yes, this is life.” 


So I think of her as rejoicing in the presence of 
her Savior, and of her death as going home. I can- 


118 Annals of a Beautiful Liye. 


not think of her as lying in the grave. For Iam 
as certain asI can be of anything, that, when the 
gates of pearl swung back to let her in upon the 
pavement of pure transparent gold, the Master 
himself greeted her with a smile and a personal 
welcome, and with His own hands placed upon 
her brow a beauteous crown of victory. ev. 2: 
10. It comforts me to think of the glory which 
has burst upon her vision, and that her eye has 
seen the Savior, and Paul, and all the saints of the 
Bible.* ‘ Precious in the sight of the bouas is the 
death of His saints.” 


‘« Precious, precious to Jehovah is His children’s holy 
sleep ; 

He is with them in the passing through the waters cold 
and deep; 

Everlasting love enfolds them, softly, sweetly to His 
breast, 

Everlasting love receives them to His glory and His 
TESs[:i 


Truly, the dead who die in the Lord are thrice 
blessed. 

Nevertheless, we miss her. At every turn I 
stand face to face with her blessed memory. 
Hardly anything in my work which her deft hand 
has not touched, which her sweet life has not made 
sacred, with which she was not in some way asso- 





* Rev. 7:9, 10, 15-17; 21: 4,7; 22: 1-5,—and a multitude of like pas- 
sages, which tell the glory they have gained whom God has called home. 








Conclusion. 119 


ciated. The very sunlight, in which she loved to 
. sit, is brighter to me because she loved it. As 
one of the sisters wrote,—‘‘I can scarcely go into 
the sitting-room when the sun is shining, without 
thinking of dear Isabel, for she did love the sunlight ; 
and that room is very sunny. Her life to others 
was a life of sunshine.” ‘The moon, the stars, the 
woods, the flowers, the birds, have a new charm 
now, for she delighted in them all. I could go 
scarcely anywhere without some sweet remem- 
brance of those blessed years, during which I knew 
and had her, being brought vividly to my mind, to 
tell me of my irreparable loss. 


‘*Oh! the lost, the unforgotten ! 
In our hearts they perish not.” 


When I think of her as having entered into that 
deathless life, and as walking over those pavements 
of pure transparent gold, within those walls and 
gates of precious stones, I cannot feel like drawing 
élack lines around her death, but bands of gold and 
of glory. For,—just think of it !—she is clothed in 
white raiment, and has palms in her hands, and 
wears jewels with which her Savior has adorned 
her, and He has taken her by the hand, and intro- 
duced her to the King of heaven, saying,—She 
alsorteronero: mine. ev, 3: 4,5; 7: 9; 10; 
Isa. 61:10. Those who knew her in life know 
how she delighted in clean white garments, and 


120 Annals of a Beautiful Life. 


that this delight was a fit emblem of the purity of 
her sweet life. When we think of her as sitting 
with Christ in the kingdom of God, and on His 
throne (Luke 13: 29; Mev. 3: 21), and as having 
on a wedding robe, and sitting at the marriage- 
supper of the Lamb (fev. 19: 8, 9), how can we 
mourn for her! Some one spoke rightly who said 
that her funeral did not seem like an occasion of 
mourning, but of solemn and holy joy. 

But when we think of our loss, the heart bleeds, 
and bleeds, and bleeds. Sometimes, when I look | 
up, the eye is dim with weeping, and yonder seems 
so far away; and when I try to tell the bitter sor- 
row in that ear which is always open, the voice is 
husky with grief, and it seems as if no one were 
near to hear. And I utter the complaint of my 
heart in the words of the poet she loved so well: 


‘* Break, break, break, 
On thy cold gray stones, O Sea! 
And I would that my tongue could utter 
The thoughts that arise in me. 
* * * * # 
‘And the stately ships go on 
To their haven under the hill ; 
But O for the touch of a vanished hand, 
And the sound of a voice that is still.” 


And then better, more consoling thoughts come to 
me, and yonder seems nearer, and the open ear to 
listen, and I feel that I am not alone, and that the 





Conclusion. 121 


hand is not vanished, nor the voice still. For 
there is no divine philosophy, of which I know, to 
forbid the conjecture that she may not be so wholly 
ignorant of our earthly life as we may think. But, 
at any rate, the voice is not still, for she being dead 
yet speaks, and the hand is not vanished, for her 
works do follow her. Oh! blest philosophy of 
Divine thought and compassion, which lets the 
touch of the blessed lives, which have been linked 
to ours, linger ! 

My task is done. More than words can tell, it 
has been a labor of love. I am painfully sensible 
of the feebleness of words to paint her life as it 
deserved to be painted. Their brightest colors are 
dim beside the truth. I must therefore leave it to 
the reader to say how much, if any, in his estimate, 
this life was above the commonplace. To those 
who knew her, no words of praise will be fulsome. 
We feel that she has entered into joys no pen can 
describe. We believe that her life was in every 
way noble, and worthy of imitation. As we have 
said, we can wish nothing better for the coming 
women than that they may be such dutiful daugh- 
ters, and affectionate companions, and _ sincere 
Christians, as she was. 

A mother, closing the eyes of her little daugh- 
ter, who had just breathed her last, said,—‘‘I give 
thee joy, my daughter.” God has given joy to our 
dear one, and shall we not have grace to say,— 


122 Annals of a Beautiful Life. 


‘“‘ We give thee joy, sweet sister”? How shall we 


say it?) With what words shall we end our praise 
of her, and say adieu? Let the following beautiful 


poem, from the pen of Mrs. Herrick Johnson, of 


Auburn, N. Y., speak for us: 


‘What shall I say to thee, sweetest, kneeling beside 
thee in tears,— 

Knowing that here ends the measure of all thy beautiful 
years? 

Feeling the death-seal of silence between us, henceforth 
from this day, 

Which, of all lovingest things that my seca for See 
holds, shall I say? 


‘‘Can I beg thee for dear words of parting, with eager and 
passionate breath? 

Or lament thy so instant transition from life to this mar- 
ble of death? 

And if I named all thou art leaving, should it be indeed 
matter of grief, 

That thou leavest the sowing for reaping—the seed for the 
full-ripened sheaf? 


‘¢ But what hast thou left, then, dear sleeper, of all that the 
soul counteth worth,— 

Opening thine eyes upon heaven, as they close on the 
gladness of earth? 

Thou art gone from this flower-crowned brightness to 
God’s glowing garden above ; 

Gone from our poor, anxious loving, to infinite riches of 
love. 





Conclusion. 123 


‘‘ No shadow of death on thy pathway, no river in struggle 
to Cross ; 

No anguish or trial of ane no moment to picture a 
loss ; 

But in one happy instant, the angel who carries the golden 
key, 

Hath unlocked the wonderful portals, and peetea: all 
heaven to thee! 


‘¢O mystic, unspeakable glory! I linger and listen outside, 

Though I catch but in echo the faintest, the joy of the on- 
swelling tide ; 

_ But I know tiea art there with the ea on the banks 
of the crystal sea, 

And knowing such things, beloved, I can say but one 
thing to thee. 


** See, I place in thy hand these lilies, like those that the 
angel brought 

For the day of annunciation, and I have but this one glad 
thought ; 

Pressing my kisses down on thy death-sweet face, I say, 

From my heart of hearts, my darling, 7 give thee joy this 
day!” 


“MHmen. 

















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